Hold Your Breath
by Battle On
Summary: Marked at birth, Harry Potter, has always been different. The older he gets the clearer the phrase appears and having the words caring is not an advantage etched on his arm doesn't exactly inspire confidence in those around him. Teased and bullied as a child Harry learns to hide his mark and tries to forget the cold words that will identify his future mate.
1. Part I: 1998-2005

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock (BBC) or any of the characters from either series represented in this piece. Any original character in this piece are mine.

**A/N**: Written for Soulmate/Soulbond challenge on Rough trade during NaNoWrimo 2014. Didn't quite make the word count, but enjoyed it all the same.

Beta'd by KissOfTheGrimm, all other mistakes found are mine.

* * *

It was official, Harry Potter was a freak.

He had been sitting in his cupboard, hands over his ears, trying to block out his cousin's taunts as Dudley ran up and down the stairs screaming to the heavens about his freakishness, when he had come to this conclusion. Dust had clouded his vision and occasionally caused him a fit of coughing. They had talked about soulmate marks in class today, a lecture required to be given in primary school before the end of Year 4. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he remembered the Miss Beck's talk about when soulmate marks would appear. She had looked right at him and hadn't bothered to hid her disgust. What his Aunt and Uncle had been telling him all his life must be true then. Harry was part of a very small and most reviled group. There wasn't even pity in their eyes.

The other students had always treated him different, but Harry had thought it his cousin's influence. Now he knew differently, or suspected at least. The reason why he had never received a birthday party invite or stood a chance at making a friend. The reason why his Aunt and Uncle hated him and refused to let him play with Dudley ever in their time growing up together. They didn't want his freakishness to rub off. What would the neighbors say?

As the weeks had passed, Harry had grown less of a thick skin than he would have liked. The constant imposed counseling sessions that took place, at minimum once a month, during school only served as a reminder to him, and all around him, of his taint. The constant barrage by his counselor to remember not to talk to any adult that approached him, not to look any adult in the eye, and never ever show an adult his mark. It was for his own good, he didn't want a pedophile to take him did he? That's what his soulmate was, wasn't it? A man or woman twenty or more years his senior.

For all of a minute, Harry had thought that the weird school that had sent him letters would be his saving grace. He had dreamed of attending a school where no one knew his name. Where he could make friends, study hard, and learn, in this case, magic. That dream had been quickly shattered. Being Harry Potter was a nightmare all its own, but attending a magical boarding school and having to wear a uniform did come with one advantage. Harry was always the first to get ready in the mornings and the last at night. He had strategically chosen the bed closest to the door, after having traded with Neville that first night. He wasn't ashamed to say that it was one of the few times he had used his new found fame to his own advantage. Fame had never been nice to him, but it did help here and there. Harry was no longer famed for his mark and in the end he found he could more than live with that. That wasn't to say it had been easy, far from it. Harry was fairly convinced that Fate just enjoyed fucking with.

It had been hard witnessing Cedric's death, being forced to take part in Voldemort's resurrection, and knowing the traitor that had gotten his parent's killed got away. Being ignored by his friends that following summer and learning about his connection to Snake Face himself hadn't helped his spiraling mindset either, but the real tragedy had been losing Sirius. Harry had never really stopped blaming himself. Time and space would help him in the future, he was told, when the memory wasn't quite so raw. Then he might be able to accept that all the blame didn't fall on his shoulders. They had all made mistakes, but it wasn't much for consolation.

Harry had survived. Sometimes it seemed like a lie though, to say that in the end he had survived. He had defeated Voldemort and stopped a war, but to do so he had had to die himself. He had had to accept that this may have been his place all along. To die having lived a far harder life in his seventeen years than most did in their lifetime. To accept death having never known his soulmate and condemning them as well. When Harry had breathed that first breath after making his choice at Kings Cross he knew things were different now, he was different. He had never stopped hoping though, that his soulmate would come and take him away from all of this. From his muggle family and the magical world alike. Sometimes, on the days he was feeling brave, he'd even have a peek at it. There, on the inside of his upper left arm, sat the mark that should have been the greatest comfort and joy, proof his soulmate live. Instead sat the cruelest words a mark could take form as, _caring is not an advantage_.

* * *

It hadn't taken much for Harry to be convinced to finish out his education at Hogwarts, he had wanted to be convinced. The alternative to spending a year finishing his schooling wasn't something Harry was ready to face yet; accepting the Auror position, bypassing training, and being thrust into adult life. The castle was in shambles in some places and had to be cordoned off for safety, but enough of the school still stood strong and the world kept spinning, life kept moving on, and so would Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione had agreed instantly to returning for her NEWTs, while Ron had taken some convincing, and Harry wasn't surprised when two months in Ron had dropped out to join George in his shop. Not everyone had returned; some had elected to attend other schools, others had been sent to Azkaban, and some just couldn't find it in themselves to return. This had been true for most years, not just Harry's. The daily grind of lessons and homework gave Harry new purpose. He didn't think he had ever appreciated his education more, because if the war had taught Harry one thing it was that he was woefully unprepared to be an adult in this world. Being the top of their class in Defense Against the Dark Arts had helped him, of course, but it didn't replace knowing basic healing spells, or being able to brew a lifesaving potion, or recognizing a lifesaving potion ingredient. Hermione had enthusiastically agreed to help him retry brewing some of the potions they had brewed in previous years, so he had been shocked when he learned that she would be dropping out as well after winter holidays.

That February Ron and Hermione had married in the Weasley's yard, snow covering the ground and dusting the trees. A picturesque wedding, perfect in every way; even with the announcement that Hermione was with child, that followed a week later.

* * *

Harry graduated from Hogwarts in June, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. When the owl that carried the letter containing his NEWTs had arrived Harry hadn't even bothered to open it, they weren't the reason he had returned, he had wanted to expand his knowledge not prove he could just pass a test. The letter that had arrived the next day from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement concerning his acceptance into the Auror Academy had been opened and read, before being tossed aside. Harry was done chasing down dark wizards.

Harry went to Gringotts to settle his affairs the morning of his nineteenth birthday. The goblins had contacted him the year before and Harry had asked for a hold to be placed on affairs, so that he might finish his education. Due to circumstances during the war, the goblins had been unable to properly contact him on his seventeenth birthday. They had agreed to bury the hatchet if Harry in turn paid his share of the damages to their bank. When he had entered the bank that morning and had accepted his Lordships and taken claim to his rightful vaults, Harry had inquired about his share of the damages, he wanted everything to be settled before he left. He hadn't expected his account manager Nirhold to inform him that his share had been waived, apparently Harry had been the only one to willingly agree and hold his commitment for his wrong doings to the Goblin Horde. Ron and Hermione hadn't agreed and wouldn't even when Harry broached the subject later that week. Harry had made allies in the goblins.

With his Lordships came two seats in the Wizengamot and Harry made it a priority to attend every gathering. In between his new duties and reading through most of the books in the library at Grimmauld Place, Harry honestly hadn't seen the rift between himself and the Weasley's coming. He had accepted that they had their differences, they were all adults now, and even his friendship with Ron and Hermione didn't require them to agree on everything. The baby boom, as Harry had taken to mentally calling the phenomenon, was not what he would have expected to be the cause of the rift.

* * *

Christmas was a time of celebration and joy. Loss from the war only a year and a half before had surely put a damper on things still, but new life and new love seemed just the thing to raise people's spirits some. There seemed to be a wedding every month and a new announcement to add to the growing list soon followed. The Daily Prophet had monthly predictions on when Harry would be announcing his engagement, to whom he couldn't fathom. Hermione giving birth the month before had definitely raised the mood this holiday, even Harry could admit to being caught up by the cheer the baby brought. Baby Rose would be well loved and have a constant companion in her cousin, Victoire, Bill and Fleur's girl.

So when Hermione had sat next to him after dinner and placed Rose in his arms, Harry wasn't prepared to be blindsided.

"When will you be asking Ginny out again, Harry? She admitted that she's grateful you've given the both of you time to finish your educations, but don't you want to marry soon? So our children can attend Hogwarts together?" Hermione asked, eyes never straying from Rose.

"Er…What? Ginny and I broke up, Hermione."

"For the war, though, right? To keep her safe. You told me that."

"Yeah, I mean that was my reasoning at the time. I'm not her soulmate though and we're both adults now. Shouldn't she be looking for him?"

"The wizarding world doesn't put the same stock into soulmates that muggles do Harry. Didn't you know?"

"That still doesn't mean I want to date Ginny, she's kind of like a sister to me Hermione."

Hermione glanced up at him, his words having somehow broken the spell that kept her eyes locked on her child. "Well, surely you must be interested in someone, of not Ginny. Don't you want to settle down Harry? I can understand not wanting to be an Auror, Ron and I agreed that what we went through during the war was more than enough. We wanted to start our lives together. It may have been a bit rushed, I'll admit, but I couldn't be happier. I want this for you as well."

"I'm glad you're doing what makes you happy Hermione, but this isn't for me. Not yet."

"I just don't understand it Harry. Don't you see that we still have a duty? Being an Auror was one option and this is another." Hermione lifted Rose from his arms, her face guarded.

"This? A Duty? Getting married is a duty for you and Ron? I thought he was your soulmate and you guys did this out of love."

"It's not that we don't love each other Harry! It's that our world didn't just become rainbows and sunshine after the war ended if you haven't noticed. People died Harry!"

"You think I don't know that? What's wrong with my wanting to take a break before jumping into something else? I haven't even met my soulmate Hermione and with all I've been through I should at least be allowed to look the bastard in the eye before I decide I'm going to turn my back on them!" Harry felt the eyes of the rest of the family on him.

"So you're just going to neglect your duty?" Ginny piped in. "You hold two Lordships Harry, don't you understand that you must produce heirs? If not for yourself, then us at least. You hold two seats, two votes. Two ancient lines will die with you Harry, if you don't do your duty. You may have been raised in the muggle world, so maybe it isn't important to you, but it is important to us."

"So, I'm just supposed to roll over; give up my life, get married, and have a few kids? Just so you all feel better? You really think after everything I've done that I don't think this world is important?" Harry said evenly. "I'm nineteen years old and I have my whole life ahead of me and I think, just for a bit, I'm going to live it the way I want to.

"I've seen what they write in the Prophet. Public opinion sways back and forth every week it seems when it comes to me. I learned a long time ago that I was never going to make everyone happy, but shouldn't I at least have the chance to make myself happy?"

"I've seen your mark Harry, why can't you just learn to make yourself happy here?" Hermione stood and walked over to her husband.

Harry looked at each of the Weasleys, most giving him pitying looks. Harry was grateful at least that George wasn't here to look at him the same.

* * *

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place and preceded to destroy one of the many guest bedrooms. Later, he would remember that it was the room that Ron and Hermione had most often used during their stays. Harry vented every emotion he could with his magic. Setting the curtains ablaze and shredding the pillows and mattress. By the end, all Harry could feel was the tears on his cheeks.

As he fell to his knees Harry wondered where it had all gone wrong. What had he done in another life, or even this one, to deserve this? The longer he cried the more he realized that staying wasn't the answer. Harry knew he had a right to want to strike out on his own and it wasn't too much to ask. Ron, Hermione, and everyone else, it seemed felt as if he owed them. As if they owned him.

So, Harry just needed to remove himself from the equation.

* * *

If Harry were a normal person, having a nightmare wouldn't be a thing to be celebrated; but Harry wasn't normal, hadn't been from the start and having a nightmare wasn't the worst thing to happen to him inside his own head. The lack of sleep had bothered him at first, but like so many other things, he just got used to it. So waking up from a nightmare for the third night in a row didn't bother Harry as much as it would most people. Living on the streets didn't make Harry like most people though. The sun, high in the sky, filtered down into the cracks and crevasses of Harry's cramped corner of the world. There wasn't much a person could say about the rundown abandon building Harry was currently calling home, but Harry and his fellow homeless squatters found it more than adequate.

Life among the dregs of London had worked out better for Harry than he had first imagined. Leaving the Grimmauld Place in the dead of the night a week after the incident at the Burrow had been the most liberated Harry had ever felt. Harry had arranged a system with the Goblins for access to his vaults and had gone over the legalese with a solicitor to guarantee the rest of his property and status was protected until the time came that he decided to return. If he did decide to return.

He had tried renting a small run down flat for a few months, using it as his base of operations, but he hadn't been able to earn the other's trust. Having a place with little in and out traffic as he did caused him to have suspicious neighbors. Although, Harry couldn't understand why they had any right to be suspicious given their own chosen trades. Harry had gone out one day, his bag on his back and simply never returned; an undetectable extension charm like Hermione had used during the war making his bag far more useful.

An older woman who introduced herself as Willow and reminded him a bit of Luna, had taken a liking to Harry and had been more than happy to share her spot with him. Harry had healed the cuts on her feet and legs in exchange for her generosity. She gazed at him knowingly and had patted his shoulder. The next day she brought a friend home with her and Harry had done what he could to help. With Willow's help he was making progress in earning the other's trust; before long he was being dragged off for "house calls" and getting visitors every day. Harry didn't know what Willow was telling them to get them to keep their silence, none of them ever spoke a word about how he did it. When they showed up they just knew that he was there to help. He never asked for anything in return, but most tried to leave something with him.

As the days started to grow warmer Harry made his first trip back into the Diagon Alley. He donned a worn, but clean, muggle blouse and knee length skirt that Willow had brought home for him last week. Harry had cast a spell on his hair to lengthen and straighten it, while Willow had insisted on combing his hair out and Harry hadn't the heart to say no. An old cloak completed the ensemble. Hood raised, Harry gave Willow a peck on the cheek and disaparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

Harry spent every New Years in the same spot, the spot where he had watched the fireworks from when the millennium came rolling in, just days after making his grand escape. The cramped alley behind one of the smaller churches in the city provided a clear view of the sky.

Harry had made a name for himself over the years and while being homeless in London wasn't easy, it did provide Harry with a simple life. Willow spent most of her time in shelters these days. She'd taken him in five years ago, now, and Harry was thankful every day for her kindness. There was very little Harry hadn't shared with her about his life from before, some of which he could never come right out and say.

The one subject they were most open with each other was soulmates and the marks they leave on each other. Willow's mark had appeared not long after her fortieth birthday and had faded before her forty-first. She had been a teacher at the time and had managed to finish out the school year before taking a leave of absence; she hadn't returned. Willow had explained how she had been disowned by her family when he mark hadn't appeared by her twenty-fifth birthday. She'd never really considered marrying someone or having kids, part of her blamed the system and their backward logic, and she never really felt like she had had that option. Being different was something to be ashamed of. She never told Harry how she had become homeless, but Harry had never minded, it didn't matter. Willow was a good person and that was all that mattered.

In between making salves, checking in on people, and catching up with Willow, Harry had found a peace he hadn't had before. A peace that was disturbed by a new whisper that swept its way through the homeless. The others spoke of a man with a sharp tongue and no nonsense attitude. A man by the name of Holmes.

* * *

Harry had held his tongue when the other first started talking about Mister Holmes during their visits. Much like Harry, the man appeared to be trying to win them over and was fumbling a bit. He talked of Scotland Yard, murder, and drugs, offering them repayment for the odd work he had them do. Deliver a note here, follow someone there, and report back. His personal address and mobiles had even been distributed to a few. Harry could see the cleverness in Mister Holmes' plan, nobody paid much attention to the homeless. Normal people tended to avert their eyes, but Harry did not like the thought of anyone potentially putting themselves into harm's way for this man.

Harry was going to pay Mister Holmes a visit.

* * *

The apartment building reminded Harry of his own from years ago. Foreboding, dingy, cold, and of questionable management. Harry walked up the stairs and cringed at a particularly loud creak followed by a dip in the board that did not bode well. He quickly ascended the rest of the steps and located the correct door before knocking.

The door flew open, startling Harry a bit, and an unshaven man with sharp cheekbones peered at Harry. "You didn't use the knock."

"Er, excuse me?"

"The knock, you're not a client and clearly live on the streets, so you should have used the knock."

"My apologies then. May I please come in, Mister Holmes?"

"Did my brother send you?"

"Does he 'clearly live on the streets' as well?"

The man grinned and pulled Harry inside, slamming the door behind him. "Mycroft didn't send you then. How can I help you Mister…"

"Black."

"Mister Black, then."

"Just Black."

* * *

Sherlock's mind was amazing and horrifying all wrapped up into one man, but Harry could see the good in Sherlock and the two men came to an agreement. Harry would assist Sherlock in building his 'Homeless Network' and in return Sherlock would send the more dangerous jobs Harry's way. Harry told Sherlock as he turned to leave, that Sherlock should find a better place to live if he didn't want to chance a relapse and had been told to not so kindly fuck off.

* * *

"Not everyone wants to be helped dear." Willow had tutted and patted his cheek obligingly.

"I know that Willow."

"Hmmm. Did I ever tell you about the cemetery, dear? No? Well, I was out walking the one day, after I had left teaching you know, and I felt inexplicably drawn to a cemetery nearby. I wasn't quite sober, but thankfully there wasn't anyone around to see my stumble my way over to this cemetery. I wandered off, mentally and physically, I'm afraid. Until I realized I had stopped. There was a lamp post not far off and I thought perhaps I had been heading towards it." Willow sighed from her seat next to him. "When I started towards it though, it didn't feel right, so I turned back around. I was in front of one of the graves, looked newer, well kept. What disturbed me most was that the date of birth and death were damn near identical. When I tried to walk away again, I didn't feel the same urge to go back."

"Who was it?"

"Oh their name isn't important Harry. What's important is that if you want to help people, you help those who want help. Not the other way around, that just causes more pain and frustration in the end."

* * *

Harry was used to walking in, out, and around the alleys of London. He knew which areas to walk through and which ones to actively avoid on the days he didn't intentionally go out looking for trouble. Of course, he never really went looking for trouble did he? Trouble always came to him.

As Harry passed through another dark alley on his way home, he passed a familiar church. The one he spent his New Year's celebration near. The normal sounds of the city at night comforting him as he made his trek. Until one sound stood out, rising able the others as a whisper. A faint and pitiful, mew. Harry turned and sought out the source on instinct, before stopping himself and continuing on as he had.

_Mew_.

Harry's heart constricted. Turning back again, Harry walked in the direction he thought he had heard the crying come from. He spied a box against the back wall of the church and caught sight of a slight rustle. As he approached the box Harry could just make out the small furred creature that lay inside. The kitten raised its head at the sound of Harry's footsteps, crying more insistently. Harry kneeled down and rested his hand on the small quavering body, the kitten pressing back against his hand.

"Hey there little one." Harry whispered as he lifted the kitten from its box and brought it towards his chest. The kitten mewed in response and settled down after the initial bit of squirming from being lifted. "I guess you're coming home with me."

The kitten purred the entire walk home.

* * *

It soon became apparent to Harry that Bishop wasn't an ordinary kitten. Harry had found the little beast almost three weeks ago and after doing what he could to ensure the kitten's health and figuring out a feeding regimen, Bishop had grown. Not in a way that Harry thought was normal either, not for a normal kitten anyway. Bishop was nearly three times the size he had been when Harry had brought him home. Obviously, Bishop wasn't a normal kitten and Harry was starting to suspect magical influence. A kneazle maybe? Were there any other magical breeds of cats? How many magical breeds of animals ended up in the muggle world?

Harry glanced down at the purring mass currently sprawled across his lap, and sighed. Bishop's long kitten down fur had only continued to grow and Harry had been wary over keeping Bishop's coat maintained, but a nightly brushing seemed to do the job, way better than Harry suspected it should. Bishop was too large to be carried around in Harry's jacket anymore and had taken to following him wherever he went. Sherlock hadn't reached out to him recently so he hadn't had to worry about Bishop on that front, yet. Harry was just hoping he could convince the animal stay home or with Willow should the need arise. On his next trip to Gringotts, he was going to have to risk a trip into a bookstore and see what he could find on familiars and magical cat breeds and crossbreeds.

* * *

Harry shuddered from the cold seeping through his body as he sat on the ground, eyes to the sky, and watched the fireworks bring in yet another year. Bishop had squeezed himself between Harry's neck and the wall, acting as an impromptu scarf, content to sleep while Harry watched. The long held tradition of watching fireworks from this spot held true, until Harry heard the distinct clicking of heels.

Harry snapped his head in the direction of the gently falling clicks and clacks to see a women walking in his direction. Harry rubbed Bishop's head as he started to stand, giving the cat time to readjust himself over Harry's shoulders. The woman stopped a few feet from Harry, face lit by the mobile she held in front of her.

"Mister Black?" The women asked only glancing up momentarily from her mobile.

"Who's asking?"

"Mister Holmes would like to meet with you."

"Mister Holmes employs a secretary now?"

"If you'll follow me." The woman turned and walked back out the alley.

Harry weighed his options and sighed before deciding to follow the woman out of the alley and into the waiting car.

* * *

The woman never spoke a word during the car ride as they wove in and out of London's streets, their destination an old warehouse by the Thames. Bishop still sat perched upon Harry's shoulders, but when Harry turned to pet him, Harry could see Bhim eyeing the cars upholstery. Bishop jumped down into the empty space between Harry and the woman eyeing her as he began to knead the seat with his claws. The woman's brow twitched. As the car slowed and came to a stop, the woman exited from one side of the car, Harry and Bishop the other.

"Mister Holmes will meet you inside." The woman stated before getting back in the car.

Harry looked at the warehouse and then back at the car, but before he could try to get back in as well, the car started to drive away. Harry figured he might as well see what Mister Holmes wanted then.

As they entered the warehouse Harry could spot a man standing in the center of the nearly empty building. Dressed in a three piece suit that screamed money the man stood at least six foot, with an umbrella in his right hand to lean on.

"So glad you could join me, Mister Black."

"Just Black, thanks." Harry insisted as Bishop gave a hearty cry as he came around Harry to sit in front of his feet. "That's Bishop."

"Indeed. Well Black, _Bishop_." Mister Holmes uttered with a strained lilt to his voice upon saying Bishop's name. "What can you tell me of your relationship with Sherlock?"

"Ah." Harry smiled indulgently. "You must be Mycroft then, who clearly doesn't live on the streets."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Your brother is a very suspicious man, your name came up in a conversation once."

"Your relationship with him?"

"Sherlock and I have an agreement of sorts, that's all."

"An agreement that deals with your kind?" Mycroft looked down at a file he held in his hands. "Mister Potter? I only ask out of concern you see."


	2. Part II: 2006

**A/N:** So I am posting this a bit later than I had planned, but here it is. I have gone in to the first chapter and adjusted the chapter title, to help better reflect the timeline in the story.

The chapter is not beta edited, just revised by yours truly, so any and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy~

* * *

Harry started at his name and Bishop sneezed, in what he thought sounded like derision, while Mycroft stood there looking quite pleased with himself.

"You have quite an interesting file there, Mycroft."

"_Quite_, Mister Potter. My question?"

"Sherlock isn't involved with wizards if that's what you're asking."

"Your agreement then?"

"Sherlock starting coming to the homeless for help, small jobs that take advantage of people not paying attention." Harry rubbed his eye, his hand pausing for but a second to push up the glasses that no longer sat on his nose. "When I went to see him about it we agreed that any of the more dangerous tasks would come to me. I'm trying to keep these people healthy and safe, to the best of my ability anyway. So if there's nothing else Mister Holmes."

"Just another small matter." Mycroft flipped through the file. "I would be interested in discussing your employment."

"I'm not employed."

"Yes, I can see that. I'm afraid you've misunderstand. I would like to employ you." Mycroft stated blandly. "For your, unique, skill set."

"Skill set..."

"Yes, all your documentation will be taken care of and your services will be well compensated for. All with approval from the Crown, of course."

"You asked the Queen to get me a job?"

"A problem?"

"No, but I don't need the money."

"Excellent. Cynthia will deliver all the necessary paperwork tomorrow, if you'd be so kind as to sign it, and your official documents with be delivered by the end of the week."

"I won't have to kill anybody will I? Tends to be frowned about where I'm from."

"Tends to be frowned upon in most places, Mister Potter. Good day." Mycroft smirked and turned towards the exit, umbrella swinging at his side with each step.

"Did you hear me? I'm not looking to be paid!" Harry yelled at Mycroft's retreating form.

* * *

Harry had been making his rounds and was heading towards the shelter Willow was staying in tonight when he wandered to close to the main street. A voice stood out from the others quite clearly. Someone was calling for Potter. Harry resisted the urge to turn around and quickened his pace in hopes that he could get back off the main drag and into the shadows. Maybe he was just over reacting, but better safe than sorry.

"Harry! Harry Potter!"

Harry eyed the alley only a few feet away and slipped through a crowd of muggles hoping to confuse his follower. About halfway down the alley a hand fell on his shoulder and Harry reacted. In a few quick moves Harry had the person pressed against an alley wall, and really wished he hadn't just started training Bishop to stay at home.

"Whoa, easy. Didn't mean to startle you, honest. Thought you couldn't hear me was all. Blimey it really is you Harry." The man rambled with a nervous lilt in his voice.

Harry studied the man closely, easing his grip and backing down the alley a bit to put space between them. "You are?"

"Don't you remember Harry, Hufflepuff, dueling club. My name is Justin…"

"Finch-Fletchley." Harry interrupted. "You didn't come back after the war."

"No, no I didn't. Left with that whole muggle-born registration shit going on. Convinced my parents I needed to catch up on my muggle education, was better than telling them the truth. Mother had been so pleased to have a wizard in the family." Justin looked back out towards the street. "Didn't have the heart to tell her with all that was going on I might not be much of a wizard soon enough.

"When word had reached me that You-Know-Who had been defeated, well going back never really crossed my mind. If they could put people like me through that once, we both know they'd try it again. Went to America for a couple of years, bit more progressive there. Was able to fulfill my education requirements so when I came back no one could question me over my wand. "Heard you'd disappeared. Never expected to run in to you out here of all places."

Harry's mobile started to buzz in his pocket, Mycroft had probably been watching, the bastard.

"Sorry, Justin. A moment." Harry turned to the side and reached in his pocket to pull out the phone. "Yes?"

"Are you in need of assistance Mister Potter?" Not-Cynthia's voice filtered through the phone.

"Not at the moment, thank you for inquiring. Good-bye."

"Mister Potter." Not-Cynthia quipped before Harry could hang up. "Mister Holmes would like to be assured of your safety."

"Oh, just put the bastard on already." Harry could hear a minute shuffle.

"Good afternoon, Harry. All is well I hope?"

"You've been watching me."

"Surely you don't believe this is a new arrangement."

"Everything's fine." Harry sighed. "Except, maybe, for the headache I can feel coming on. Good day, My."

Harry snapped the phone shut.

"Boyfriend?" Justin asked with a grin.

"Possibly soon to be ex-boyfriend." Harry replied with a grin.

"Well, I've got to get going, and again sorry about grabbing you like that."

"Don't worry about, though I wouldn't recommend trying it again. Yeah?"

"Deal." Justin held out his hand.

Harry shook Justin's hand and watched Justin walk back out into the street, disappearing among the masses.

* * *

The hairs on Harry's neck raised, it was the third time this week it had happened and he was starting to think he was being stalked. He just hoped it wasn't someone Mycroft had hired, if so the person needed to be fired as soon as possible. The game of cat and mouse needed to end, and Harry was done being the mouse.

He emerged from an alley and walked casually through a crowded street, easily slipping through the throngs of people. Harry could feel someone getting closer. He gripped the mobile Mycroft had sent him in his right hand, contemplating his exit strategy. Harry flips the phone open and sent a short one word text, counted to thirty, turned down another alley and disaparated.

* * *

"Bishop?" Mycroft inquires, eyebrow raised.

"Figured you would figure it out." Harry states taking in Mycroft's office.

"My understanding was that you needed to visit or see a place before you can apparate there."

"Always been a bit of a rule breaker." Harry shrugged and came to stand in front of Mycroft's desk.

Mycroft rubbed his eyes.

"Headache?"

"Constantly."

"Having me followed?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but did not look up from the documents in front of him. "Watched."

"Good, I was worried your standards had dropped."

Mycroft looked up, but Harry was already gone.

* * *

Harry could feel the approaching storm and it made his skin itch. If only he could he could predict the weather as well as he could predict fate abandoning him. Well, to be fair, he probably relied on magic a bit too much when it came to the weather.

Harry stood in the warehouse Mycroft had had him brought, he hoped Mycroft didn't mind him borrowing it. His stalker had become more persistent and Harry hadn't wanted whatever was coming disturbing the place he called home.

"Mrow."

"You were supposed to stay home. Do I dare ask how you got all the way out here?" Harry asked the cat exasperatedly.

Bishop was about a year old now, by Harry's best guess and weighed about three kilograms. Harry hadn't been able to purchase a book on magical breeds of cats, but he guessed that the magical breeding was what helped keep Bishop's coat untangled and clean. The cat was able to hunt and provide most of the food he ate with Harry just supplementing his diet.

Bishop walked over and began weaving himself in and out between Harry's legs, purring quite loudly. Harry picked the cat up on his next pass in front of him and brought Bishop up to eye level.

"It's dangerous to be here right now."

Bishop laid a paw on his nose and Harry chuckled at his familiar's antics. "You going to run and get help if this goes badly?"

Bishop hissed and twisted out of Harry's grip, launching himself towards to the ground. He landed with a soft thud and he twitched his tail agitatedly.

"Should I leave my phone out for you then?"

Bishop eyed Harry distastefully and began to pace in front of him.

Harry squatted down. "My sarcasm isn't appreciated I see. Just promise me you'll keep safe. Don't want anything to happen to you, my little beast."

Bishop chirruped excitedly.

Two loud cracks of apparation startled the peace.

* * *

Ron and Hermione looked much the same as they had six years ago. Hermione stood across the warehouse with a large grin and a look of relief on her face. She was dressed in a more traditional Wizarding wardrobe, the hood of her cloak lifted and haloing her long hair. Ron had a scowl on his face and wore a traditional Weasley jumper and slacks. He gripped Hermione's hand tightly when she started towards Harry and Harry thought he could see a bump under Hermione's clothes. The cold glare she turned on her husband amused him greatly.

Harry stood and allowed the two to scrutinize his appearance. He had shaved this morning and dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, adding his light jacket on top of his shirt, half zipped. His trainers had seen better days, but were still functional and there wasn't anyone to impress in his day to day life so it worked for him. Bishop never complained.

The cat, as if hearing Harry's musings, twitched an ear in his direction.

"Harry!" Hermione called, dragging Ron behind her as she came closer. "It's been too long. Look at you, you could do with a few of Molly's meals."

Ron pulled Hermione to a stop a few feet away, not giving under the glare she gave him this time.

"Hello Hermione," Harry acknowledged. "Ron. It's been a while."

"Oh, Ronald. Stop being ridiculous." Hermione raised their hands. "Unhand me this instant, I want to give Harry a hug."

"He could be dangerous Hermione, we don't know what he has been doing all these years." Ron whined before whispering loudly in Hermione's direction. "We don't know how stable he is."

"No more dangerous or unstable than I am going to be if you don't release my hand right this moment Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Ron dropped Hermione's hand like it had burned him, and watching Hermione's ire rise, it may have. Hermione gave her husband one last glance before rushing the last few feet between Harry and herself and throwing her arms around him. "I've missed you so much Harry."

Hermione's hug brought back a nostalgia Harry he wasn't quite comfortable with. "Hey there, Hermione." Harry's eyes lifted to see Ron still glaring and turning an interesting shade of red.

Hermione pulled back to get a better look at Harry. "Having you been eating well enough Harry? You look a bit pale and thin."

"I eat well enough, Hermione. You're looking radiant though. A brother or sister for Rose?"

Hermione laughed brightly and released him, hands going down to her distended stomach. "A boy this time we hope. Rose already has two younger sisters to terrorize. Emmaline who is four, Elizabeth who just turned two, and Rose turns six next month. Rosie, Emmie, and Lizzy." Hermione had taken out a picture and pointed to each other girls.

"That's amazing Hermione, really. You and Ron make beautiful children."

"Mmm. This is going to be our last, though. Four little terrorists will be enough." Hermione giggled and Harry smiled at her.

"Unless, it's another girl." Ron added.

"We aren't trying for a boy Ronald." Hermione snapped.

Harry transfigured a couple of chairs from some of the scraps of metal in one of the corners of the warehouse. "Here, Hermione sit down."

"Mrow."

Harry watched as Bishop jumped into the seat Harry was going to sit in leaving Harry having to pick Bishop up and settled him on his lap.

"This is Bishop, by the way. My familiar…I think."

Hermione reached out and ran a hand down Bishop's back. "He's gorgeous Harry. Where'd you get him?"

"Rescued him last December. Found him in a box behind a church."

Ron reluctantly sat in the last open seat after moving the chair closer to Hermione and reclaiming her hand.

"Do you know what breed he is?" Hermione inquired, patting Ron's clasped hand.

"No, I keep meaning to get a book, but the opportunity hasn't arisen yet."

"So what are you doing with yourself now Harry?"

"I work with the homeless. Knowing a little muggle first aid can go a long way."

"That's wonderful, Harry."

"You know, he'd be more amazing if Harry would invite us back to his place, instead of making you sit in this dingy building." Ron quipped.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped back.

Harry looked Ron in the eyes and pointedly replied. "You bring up and interesting point Ron, seeing as how I don't live here and yet here you two are."

"Really, Ronald. I don't know why I let you come with me. We were having a perfectly decent conversation and you had to go and bring that up."

"As if Harry doesn't already know Hermione. He's been spotted all over London, surely he lives near here." Ron grumbled. "Probably still even gets the Prophet."

"So, Harry wanted to meet on neutral ground, with the attitude you've brought, Ron, I can't say I'm surprised."

"As amusing as all this is, just what in the hell are you two talking about?" Harry interrupted.

"The column on the Prophet Harry, that was created after the story was run on you. No one had seen or heard from you in six years, so when the story came out well…" Hermione trailed off.

"People started stalking me?"

"Well, not stalking you I'm sure, but, maybe…keeping an eye out?" Hermione tried to reason. "Some people likened it to when you were a kid."

Bishop began to purr, lightly kneading into Harry's leg.

"People stalked me when I was a kid?"

Hermione looked unsure and said. "Stalking is such a dirty word, Harry."

"A dirty word for a dirty act I suppose. I can't recall the exact definition of stalking, but constantly following someone around and watching them from a distance when it isn't appreciated I think falls somewhere in there."

"I told you he would be unreasonable Hermione, never could appreciate what he had."

Harry opened his mouth and then decided against speaking. Ron had always been like this and Harry didn't know why he though adulthood would change Ron any.

Hermione looked at Harry and then Ron and sighed, rubbing her stomach. "So, where are you living Harry? Did you decide to attend muggle university?"

"Your stalkers didn't figure it out?" Harry asked coldly. "Can't say I am surprised, though. If they watched me as a kid and couldn't put two and two together about the Dursley's, why expect any different now?"

"Well, some did note they could never spot you coming or going from any one particular house or flat." Hermione whispered.

"Well then, let me let you in on the little secret your spies missed." Harry hissed. "I live on the streets Hermione and I think I'd like to know more about this article in the Prophet."

"The streets, Harry? You're homeless?!"

Ron chuckled darkly while his wife just looked scandalized.

"The article?"

"Oh, um." Hermione adjusted her dress while trying to compose herself. "It was done anonymously, about two weeks ago. Someone went to the prophet and said they had seen you on the street in London. Mentioned you were using a mobile and had a job of some sort. Thought you might be living in London. The column started two days later when all the confirmed sightings started coming in."

Harry abruptly stood, knocking Bishop off his lap. "That damn Hufflepuff."

"Who was it?"

"So you can tell the Prophet?"

"Harry! We are your friends. You don't think we'd actually do something like that?" Hermione studied the look he leveled at her. "Do you?"

"You used the Prophet to track me down didn't you?"

"We were worried! You just disappeared!"

"You only wanted me around to be some sort of stud for your goddamn blood line games!"

Ron stood from his seat. "Oi! Don't talk to my wife like that. She deserves more respect than that mate."

"And I don't deserve yours?!"

Ron pulled his wand down from inside his left sleeve and gripped it tightly.

Hermione looked startled by the action. "Ronald, put your wand away this instant!"

"He isn't to be trusted Hermione. I'm not risking you or the baby. Just because his soulmate doesn't want him, doesn't mean I'm risking mine. You've seen the papers and publishing's. People like him are dangerous." Ron stated with a sense of finality in his voice.

Harry stood perfectly still and focused on Hermione, keeping his eyes away from the wand pointed at him.

"I don't know where our paths diverged Hermione," Harry started, keeping his voice and breathing even. "but that night you and the rest of the Weasley's put the world right back on my shoulders. I'd only just gotten it off.

"I spent, from the time I entered the Wizarding World until the time I left it, my life fighting an evil no one person should be burdened with. I faced things in school that full grown adults would and did struggle with. I should have died a number of times, during the school year, on school grounds. I, blindly, accepted all of this. I didn't have anyone to point out the wrong in all of this. I wish that maybe Sirius could have, but the effects of Azkaban left their toll on his mind and body, and while none of the adults fought for his rights, I couldn't.

"Then I actually died, Hermione. I walked into that forest and died. I'm not saying it was a cake walk for you or anyone else during those years, but I can't understand why you would insist putting me into a situation where I'm left without choices once again. Where there is only one path left to me to walk. You said you wanted me to be happy Hermione. That night. I think you meant you only _wanted_ me to be happy on your terms though. On everyone else's terms, but my own." Harry finished, throat constricted and eyes feeling a bit wet.

Hermione dabbed at her own eyes and started to cry. "This is what makes you happy, though, Harry? Being homeless? Living away from us? We love you so much Harry."

"I think that, in your own way, you do love me Hermione, but I find that a bit hard to believe from your husband there. You found what you want to do in life, the thing that makes you most happy." Harry looked down at his hands. "I'm still trying to figure it out, but I've found something to keep me occupied in the meantime. Living on the streets isn't all that bad Hermione, not easy, but not bad. Plus, I take on a few…odd jobs, now and again."

"Mrow." Bishop rubbed up against Harry's legs.

"There's Bishop too." Harry chuckled and took out his mobile, sending out a one word text. "Come on boy, I think it's time to leave."

Bishop jumped up into Harry's arms. "It was good to see you again Hermione. Give your girls a kiss for me. Maybe, the next time we meet will be under better circumstances."

Harry turned and disapparated.

* * *

Mycroft didn't lift his head when Harry arrived this time. Bishop jumped down from his arms and began inspecting the new room.

"Meeting didn't go well?" Mycroft asked, shuffling a few papers and looking up at Harry then down at the floor, eyes zeroing in on Bishop. "Why is that filthy beast in my office?"

"Bishop is hardly filthy or a beast."

Mycroft looked wary. "Yvonne told me what he did in the car."

"Not-Cynthia is a tattle tale and Bishop didn't ruin anything in your car, and he most definitely isn't going to ruin anything here. He's my familiar, Mycroft, and of some sort of magical breed, I doubt you'll even find any cat hair when we leave."

Bishop proceeded to prove Harry wrong by spraying the plant by Mycroft's door. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed. Mycroft just watched the scene unfold, face blank.

"Also, for your information, no, the meeting didn't go well. Sort of hoping you'd have a job for me actually."

"Did you have anything in particular in mind?"

"How about something with a beach, would be nice to get away for a while."

Mycroft smirked. "What are your thoughts on Peru?"

* * *

Five days later, Harry found himself sitting in first class on a plane to Peru. Mycroft had put together a file detailing Harry's assignment. The gist of it being, an up and coming politician in Peru had his plays in government lined up and under his carefully crafted control. His daughter, not so much. At sixteen years old, Maria, was constantly running away and undermining her parent's, perceived, authority. This had made her an easy target and six days ago she had been kidnapped. A single ransom note sent to her parents that had gone along the lines of have the cash ready and overturn the progress of a bill in ten days, or else. The locals were making no progress, corruption in the inner working of the law enforcement was suspected.

Harry was being sent to locate the girl and scout the area where she was being kept. He would then report back to Mycroft who, working in conjunction with local authorities, would send a team in for retrieval. Harry had zoned out a bit during the briefing, so he didn't know or remember how or why Mycroft's work fit into all this, but upon completion of the job Harry was getting fourteen days in paradise, all expenses paid.

As Harry walked out of the airport and into the humid Peruvian air his mobile began to ring. "Mycroft?"

"Your animal had cried incessantly at the door to my study for the last twenty hours."

"How did you know…You know what never mind. You could try petting him, you know." Harry chuckled. "Wait, are you hiding from him on your study?"

"I am trying to work." Mycroft quipped.

"For twenty hours? You did feed him right?"

"Vivian has been put in charge of seeing to his…needs."

"Like petting him? I don't think Not-Cynthia likes him very much." Harry can hear the sounds of shuffle and the click of a door. "Mycroft? Put me on speaker."

"Mrow! Mroooooow!"

"Hey Bishop, are you giving Mycroft a hard time?"

Harry could hear Bishop jump up on the desk and begin to purr. "Sorry I had to leave you buddy, but you're going to have to cut Mycroft some slack. I'm going to talk to Mycroft now, but you be good and I'll be home in two weeks."

"You don't seriously believe her can understand you."

"What's he doing right now?" Harry asked as he arranged for a cab.

"He is sprawled across my desk, purring."

"Well pick him up and head to bed, big day tomorrow. Talk to you then." Harry stated snapping the phone shut.

Before a cab could arrive, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Harry and the driver stepped out. "Mister Black?"

* * *

A sheen of sweat dotted Harry's brow as he approached the dilapidated building, a few point me spells and a little instinct had led Harry here. He eyed the building and grimaced at the sinking feeling in his stomach. Something wasn't right. Harry apparated to the roof and wandlessly opened the rooftop door. The inside of the building was luxurious, he noted, as he glanced around from the rooftop entry. Harry cautiously backed out of the building and walked about the edges, spotting a sun roof that looked down into one of the rooms.

The girl, Maria, was standing in front of a board, writing in what appeared to be Spanish. She turned to talk to the other person in the room and Harry caught sight of her eyes. Harry slipped into her mind to get a handle on the situation.

"Shit." He muttered, pulling out his mobile. "We've got a situation."

"Is she dead?"

"Worse, she's not a hostage."

"Explain."

"She's in what looks to be the war room and she isn't alone, there's a man with her. I can't read what the writing says, but I can read her surface thoughts. She's helping them, whoever this group is, take down her father. It's why her parents were given so much time for the deadline."

"She isn't being coerced."

"The man is her age, son of someone in this group. He loves her, but he didn't force her here. This looks to have been her idea from the start. I'd say she is manipulating them, not the other way around."

"Proceed to the extraction point. A car will be waiting to take you to your resort."

Harry bit his tongue, wanting to ask questions that weren't in his job description to ask. "Understood."

* * *

Harry saw that his mobile was buzzing as he exited the shower. Walking around the bed he answered it. "Yes, Mycroft?"

"You owe me another plant."

Harry sighed, dropped the towel from around his waist and laid back on the bed. "You are petting him and feeding him right? Letting him sleep with you? How hard could it possibly be to take care my cat?"

"_He_ is not normal."

"I'm not normal, but we manage to get on. Seriously, stop foisting him off on Not-Cynthia and spend a little time with him, maybe then you won't keep losing plants." Harry could hear Mycroft readjust the phone. "Shouldn't you be in bed."

"I am in bed."

"Imagine that, I am too."

* * *

"Seriously, Mycroft, what could my cat have possibly done now?" Harry asked, popping the last bit of his bagel into his mouth.

"Do you always talk with your mouth full?"

"That's for me to know and you to, er, wait…" Harry back peddled.

Mycroft ignored Harry's slip. "I was calling to inquire as to whether or not your package arrived."

"Oh, yea, the rain coats. Thanks actually. I was planning on going out tomorrow, but with all this rain, well, being out around muggles makes water repellent charms impossible to use. So thanks."

"You are welcome, Harry."

"I picked up some books today, they had a larger selection of English novels than I expected, isn't exactly how I expected to spend my beach paradise vacation, but getting away is getting away. How are things on your end?"

"A minor mishap in Liberia, but it has been handled. The paperwork it generated though…"

* * *

"I apologize for missing your call, Persephone alerted me the moment I had left that dreadful meeting."

"No problem, I was just…well, I found a local wizarding village and I got a bit excited and I wanted to tell someone, so I called you…" Harry rambled. "Sounds a bit mad though now, saying it out loud. Sorry for calling and interrupting, I know you're busy."

"Tell me about this village." Mycroft said, sounding interested. "Did you get recognized?"

"No, it was great. Huh, I didn't really think about that. Do you thing I should go out in disguise like back home? The people were all really friendly though. Most spoke at least a little English and the food is amazing, I had lunch at this little restaurant near the entrance…"

* * *

Harry shot straight up out of his bed, wand in hand, pointed right for the intruder chest. Mycroft's chest. "Mycroft? What?" Harry searched the room for in confusion. "I didn't miss my flight or something did I? Wait, my flight isn't for another four days. Why are you here in the middle of the night? What happened?

Mycroft walked over to Harry's bed and sat down, he looked down trodden and world weary. "I need to enlist in your…help."

"Yea, I mean sure, right away. What is it? What brought you all the way out here for me?"

"I could not say anything over the phone."

"Even with as secure as your lines are?"

Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock is missing, Harry."

"How long?" Harry asked as they walked out onto the tarmac, towards the private airplane.

"Right after you left to come here." Mycroft responded, his voice strained.

Harry gave Mycroft an indignant look. "All those phone conversations and you never once thought to tell me to come back. I happen to care greatly for your brother and your just now telling me he is missing."

"Sherlock drops off the grid sometimes. A day here, two of three there. Never this long though."

"You two are going to fix this after we find him Mycroft. You're grown adults, acting like children does not become of either of you."

Mycroft grimaced as they boarded the plane and sat down, Harry sighed. "I'm not asking you to change Mycroft, the relationship you and your brother have, is just that, yours, but a little communication between the two of you is necessary. Especially, in the kind of work you both are in. Look, I apologize for snapping, yeah? Let's just focus on what we have to work with and finding your brother." Harry reached out and laid his hand on Mycroft's arm.

Mycroft met his concerned stare. "Intelligence reported that Sherlock was last seen two Mondays ago…"

* * *

Landing in Heathrow nearly twenty hours later, Harry had endured more awkward silence than he thought he could stand for a lifetime. Mycroft didn't have much to go on, but thankfully Harry wouldn't need much. He knew one thing for sure, Sherlock wasn't dead, just lost. Mycroft, for all his stony faced stares and closed off attitude, was obviously distraught. It was painful for Harry to see.

"Go home Mycroft. No listen," Harry continued as Mycroft looked to interrupt. "go home. I'm going to find him Mycroft and we both know your brother isn't the type to go to the hospital willingly. So, I'm going to bring him home. Go have a room made up and try not to worry too much. Trust me?"

* * *

Harry's search brought him to an abandoned building that looked too much like the building Harry called home, for his comfort. Walking inside, the smell of urine and vomit assaulted his nose, this wasn't a place Harry had been to before or ever wanted to return to. Bodies, some alive, some not, laid out against the walls and corners. Old mattresses, ratted blankets, and garbage strewn about. As Harry ventured further into the building he finally spotted his mark. Sherlock was leaned up against a wall to Harry's right, eyes gazed over, needle between his fingers.

Sherlock had relapsed.

* * *

Carrying the consulting detective's far to light body into Mycroft's home was by far the hardest thing Harry had had to do in his life. He had had to sedate Sherlock to move him and now Sherlock slept soundly in his arms.

"Put him here." Mycroft whispered, appearing at Harry's side and leading him into one of the bedrooms.

"I don't know what he took, but I had to place a sleeping charm on him, he's stronger than he looks."

Mycroft nodded and walked over to a side door, letting two more people in. "I've hired them to see to Sherlock. He will be seen to here."

"Good, that's good."

Mycroft took in Harry's weary form. "Perhaps you should get some rest."

"Yea, call me and let me know how he is. I'll go find Bishop and head home. Take care of him, Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded.

"Take care of yourself as well."

* * *

Harry was glad to be home, he had stopped to check in on several people during his walk and had been welcomed back most enthusiastically. After having mended a broken bone, laceration, and put some salve on a couple of burns, Harry was ready to collapse into bed. Bishop had insisted on being carried the entire way home. Chattering and purring, making his displeasure at having been left for so long known.

"How about we stop and see Willow tomorrow, I can tell you both about my trip." Harry murmured into Bishops fur, stretching out on his padded bit of stone flooring. "Come one you little beast, let's get some sleep."

Bishop seemed inclined to agree, slipping underneath the blanket and curling up along Harry's chest.

The next morning Harry woke up to an older woman stopping by for a burn. He would need to make some more salve, winter was always the worst in so many ways for people that lived on the streets, but burns were frequent and dangerous.

After helping the woman, Harry fed Bishop and packed up his bag. When Bishop finished eating they headed out to find Willow. When she wasn't in any of her usual places, Harry started asking around and found her in the last place he would have thought to look, a church.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. How was your trip, dearie?" Willow remarked wrapping him up in a hug.

* * *

Walking up the steps of Mycroft's home on Christmas Eve, Harry hummed a coral he had heard on the walk over. Arriving at the door, Harry contemplated knocking and had just decided to let himself in when the door was ripped open in front of him, startling Bishop.

"Tell my brother to stop being insufferable, he listens to you."

"Hello to you to Sherlock, why yes I would love to come in, lovely weather we're having." Harry answered playfully. "You do know you're not wearing any clothes right?"

"Mycroft took my sheet." Sherlock answered as if it made all the sense in the world.

"Well, let me in before you catch cold and we'll see what we can do about your brother."

Sherlock watched Harry for a moment before stepping aside and allowing Harry and Bishop entrance. The foyer of Mycroft's home seemed a bit, disgruntled, more than likely reflecting the attitude of its master, you didn't need magic for your home to have a personality. Harry walked down the sparsely decorated halls, following the feeling of where Mycroft was located, Sherlock trailed him sullenly. Pushing open the door to Mycroft's study open with his paws Bishop slinked over to Mycroft's desk, before jumping up and sitting in the middle of Mycroft's paper work.

"Your beast is in my way."

"You Holmes' have such a way with greetings. Good evening Mycroft, I've brought you a gift and have come in search of Sherlock's sheet."

"My brother can either get dressed or not, it's no business of mine, but his sheet will not be returned to him a moment before."

Harry took a deep breath, leveling a look at Mycroft. "Bishop, why don't you go help Sherlock find his sheet?"

Bishop walked to the edge of the desk and stood on his back legs to lean against Harry. Bishop patted Harry's cheek with his paw and jumped down and walked out of the room. Sherlock followed with a curious look on his face.

"You really took his sheet?"

Mycroft pointedly did not answer.

"He looks to be doing better."

"Six weeks is hardly a testament of how well he is doing." Mycroft answered in a clipped tone.

"I'm starting to think I shouldn't have left, or maybe at least come back sooner." Harry responded, sitting down on the edge of Mycroft's desk.

"I am perfectly capable of caring for my own brother."

"You took his sheet, Mycroft. I'm not doubting your ability to take care of him. Just your sanity after having cared for him for six weeks straight on a daily basis. Your both so stubborn."

Mycroft sighed and rested his head in his hands. "It was awful."

"As bad as last time?"

"I don't know, last time I had him sent away."

"Do you know what happened? What triggered it? I don't speak with Sherlock often, but he did explain a bit to me about his deal with the Detective Inspector."

"A case."

"Not one from the Yard, right?"

"No, one he took on himself. Ended up too close to a drug lord, or so he says."

"You don't believe him?"

Mycroft lifted his head. "I believe that it is only a half truth."

"He does look much improved, Mycroft. Seems to be up to his usually antics. When he opened the door I flashed back to the first time I met him for a moment."

"You said you brought me a gift?"

"I'll let our conversation slide for the moment and yes, I brought you a plant." Harry grinned and passed the small plant to Mycroft.

"Aloe Vera."

"I thought it fitting."

Mycroft laughed and Harry thought it sounded magical.

* * *

"I thought you said he knew about magic." Harry hissed. He had taken upon himself to decorate Mycroft's sitting and dining room and cook a Christmas Eve dinner to share with the Holmes'. Harry had finished the sitting room and was almost done with the dining room when Sherlock had wandered in, sans sheet, but instead dressed in his usual attire. Sherlock had glanced at the wreath Harry was attempting to affix to the wall, levitating it into spot with his wand, eyes widening before backing out of the room. A slam of the door could be heard originating from Mycroft's office a moment later.

"It would appear that he deleted the information." Mycroft answered casually.

"So his following Bishop wasn't because he had recognized my familiar for what he is."

Mycroft made a noncommittal noise from the chair he had sat in to read the newspaper, the corner of his mouth raised just a hair.

"Well, I'm glad you find it amusing. He scared the right piss out of me when he came storming back in here. Firing questions left and right, my cat tucked up under one arm and a journal being waved around in the other."

"So, he found it then."

"I just hope he doesn't hurt him."

"I'm sure your cat will be just fine."

"I wasn't worried about my cat."

Mycroft lowered his paper and stared at Harry searchingly. "Perhaps, I should go and locate my brother."

Harry made a noncommittal noise in return.

* * *

As they sat around the fire in Mycroft's sitting room, Harry pondered where he had been ten years ago and where he was now. The Holmes' were a right handful, no doubt about it, but sitting and listening to them bicker back and forth, it became apparent just how much they cared about each other. He had spent his Christmas ten years ago mourning his godfather, this Christmas was looking much brighter in comparison. Bishop was curled up on Mycroft's lap, Sherlock was wrapped up in a sheet, over his clothes, and Mycroft looked less stressed than he had in all time Harry had known him.

Harry was glad he had struck out on his own and that his path had brought him here.

* * *

On New Year's Eve, Harry extracted a promise from Bishop not to leave the house and proceeded to drag Mycroft and Sherlock out into the cold London night. He aparated them both to the alley he had spent every New Year's Eve in and promptly sat down on the ground, applying a warming charm below him. Mycroft and Sherlock both gave him looks that obviously questioned his sanity.

"I've spent every New Year's Eve here, watching the fireworks. It's where Not-Cynthia found me last year. Don't look at me like that. You both shared your Christmas with me. Allow me to share my New Year's Eve with you." Harry pleaded. "It's just for a bit and it won't kill you."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft challengingly and sat down next to Harry. Mycroft joined them a moment later.

"Thank you." Harry whispered, lowering his head on to his knees. "There's a lot I wish I could share with you, but I can't, not right now. It wouldn't be safe, but this has been my tradition since I left and I thought that maybe since I can't share the rest of it with you right now, I could share this."

Harry missed the look Sherlock and Mycroft shared.


	3. Part III: 2007(a)

Having payed for his purchase from Flourish and Blotts, Harry made his way out into Diagon Alley and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron. Today he wore a pair of female muggle jeans, a loose fitting shirt, his trainers, and cloak. His hair had grown to a length that with some brushing and a good washing, Harry didn't absolutely need to use the straightening charm. He had gone to Diagon Alley today to meet with the Goblins after having received a missive from them, by owl. Harry's meeting with the Goblins had been eye opening, although, he shouldn't have been surprised that Mycroft had managed to get money deposited into his account. The man's knowledge of the inner workings of the magical world more than likely put most magicals to shame.

Clutching the sack of his purchases close to his chest, Harry bit his lip trying not to smile. Mycroft was impossible. Shifting the bag to his hip, Harry dug out his mobile after feeling the it vibrate, a text. Quickening his step, Harry made it into the Leaky Cauldron and out into muggle London before flipping open his phone. All the text read was _Bishop_ and the text indicated that the message had not been immediately received. Harry stepped back into the Leaky Cauldron, headed up the stairs and apparated to Mycroft's office.

"Mycroft?" He whispered into the dimmed room. Papers were strewn across the floor and the previously pristine office was trashed. Stepping further in from the corner he had apparated in to, Not-Cynthia's lifeless eyes met Harry's. Her body lay, rolled on its side, near the spot where Mycroft's plant had been, chest and thigh covered in blood as it pooled around her body. The bloody trail made it obvious she had been moved, and a shiver ran down Harry's back. Shrinking his bag and cloak and stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans, he scanned the area with his eyes, and then with his magic. Harry could feel Mycroft nearby, the wall?

A safe room.

Harry pictured Mycroft in his mind and apparated again.

* * *

The safe room wasn't very large, enough room to stand maybe four or five people. Harry was thankful he hadn't landed on Mycroft and splinched them both. He found Mycroft, huddled in the farthest corner, eyes wild, and suit in disarray. Harry kneeled down in front of the shaken man. "Mycroft?"

Mycroft's eyes seemed to focus a bit and he looked directly at Harry. "Report."

"Your office was trashed. Not-Cynthia is dead. No one was out there when I arrived a moment ago. We should move though, to be safe." Came Harry's clipped and precise reply, like he normally would give, as he stood and held out his hands to Mycroft. "Come on."

Mycroft's hands trembled in Harry's as he got to his feet. "I need you to hold on tightly to me, don't let go for any reason, alright?" Harry whispered in Mycroft's ear as he pressed their bodies together. Harry had gripped one arm around Mycroft's waist and another around his neck.

Between one blink and the next they were gone.

* * *

The condo was large, expanded much in the way Harry pondered, that Grimmuald Place was, and its wards sang upon Harry's entrance. He hadn't every been here before, but he did remember the property listed in the documents the Goblins had given him for his keeping. The documents contained the properties he now owned and would need to maintain. Situated on the outskirts of London, the flat made for the perfect place to lay low, in Harry's opinion anyway. Not that he had been consciously thinking that when he had apparated Mycroft and himself out of the safe room and away from what was left of Mycroft's office.

Harry held on to Mycroft for a moment longer than necessary, then slowly back away, seeing if the man could stand on his own.

"Where are we?" Mycroft asked, voice low, giving the flat a sweeping glance.

"A flat I own."

Mycroft looked at Harry questioningly. "You own a place to live and yet…Ah, I see."

"Do you?"

"There were some…gaps, in your file."

Harry turned away and Mycroft seemed to get the hint. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner and about Not-Cynthia. Never actually knew her real name."

There was a lengthy pause before Mycroft answered unevenly. "Emma. Emma Wildes, of Surrey."

Looking back at Mycroft, Harry grinned solemnly. "Figures the two of the three people who like you most would come from that fucked up little corner of the world."

"Three?" Mycroft asked, eyebrow raised.

"Myself, Sherlock, and Emma, of course."

Mycroft pulled the dust cover off the couch in the sitting room, distaste written clearly on his face, before sitting down. "Given the nature of my brother's and my genius, our childhood was difficult, only made easier by our presence in each other's lives. I've often wondered where I went wrong, where my path veered farther and farther away from Sherlock." Mycroft chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I told him when we were young, that caring is not an advantage and I've tried to live my life based on that philosophy. Perhaps in our genius, we lose the ability to understand each other. I never meant it to push him away, if anything I wanted to bring him closer, to protect him from the rest of the world. Emma was a surprise, one I never thought would get past my defenses. I will miss her, I admit."

Harry paused, face blanching. "What did you just say? That phrase, to Sherlock, what did you say?"

"Caring is not an advantage."

Harry stumbled back into a seat, collapsing into it. "You knew. All this time, you knew."

Mycroft's eyes widened and he stood, taking a step towards Harry. "You didn't know." Mycroft swallowed. "You didn't know and that's what it says."

"I need to leave. I have…things." Harry rose on shaky legs. "Things to do and I need some air."

"Harry…please." Mycroft pleaded.

Harry's heart wrenched, Mycroft shouldn't be that vulnerable. The perfectly crafted control that Mycroft presented to the world lay cracked and crumbled in Harry's living room. Today had been too much, and as much as he just wanted to turn and run. Looking at Mycroft, Harry knew he couldn't. This was his soulmate after all. The person he had fought so hard, just to meet.

Harry took a few deep breaths and allowed himself a moment to let the shock pass. "Trust me?" He asked, holding out his hand. Mycroft glanced at Harry's hand and studied Harry's face, seeming to gain back just a bit of his control. He gripped Harry's hand in turn and allowed Harry to lead them to the bedroom.

Harry brought them into the master and with a few quick charms cleaned and cleared the room. As they both settled on top of the bed, Mycroft on his back and Harry on his side facing Mycroft, Harry slipped his hand out across the covers, palm up. "Witches and wizards, here in Britain at least, don't put a whole lot of stock into soulmates, blood purity and all. With my mark, _those words_, I never expected to find you and if I did, I feared the person I would find. The person those words belonged to."

Mycroft placed his hand in Harry's.

* * *

The next day dawned cold and dreary, neither occupants of Harry's condo having gotten much sleep. Harry had dozed off a time or too and when he would startle awake from a nightmare just sinking its claws in, a squeeze of his hand would wake him. Mycroft did not seem outwardly perturbed by his nightmares, but Harry suspected that much of the vulnerability Mycroft had shown the night before had been locked up tight by morning's light. The little that hadn't been locked up was proved by their still clasped hands. Harry had very little inclination to get up and move just yet, he wasn't quite ready to face the world. Facing Mycroft on the other hand…

"Good morning, Mycroft." Harry whispered across the distance and was met by inquisitive eyes.

"You do realize that the clothes you are currently wearing would be typically found in the female garment section of stores." Mycroft replied, tone just as soft and Harry nodded in return.

A moments silence lapsed and Harry continued, yawning. "My disguise. For when I need to go to Gringotts or visit Diagon Alley. Magic, that is strong enough, can attract attention even when you are trying to dispel it. A few hair and cosmetic charms hardly garner a second glance. Well, not of the find of variety I need to worry about anyway."

Harry allowed the silence that followed to carry him. The minutes ticked away comfortably, before Harry knew what he needed to ask. "How long have you known?"

Mycroft's response was slower coming. "When you first fell on to my radar due to your interactions with my brother, the file I received on you came up curiously short and on a hunch I went to the Queen. My department has come across this occurrence a time or two before." Mycroft paused and it looked to Harry as if he were attempting to gather his thoughts. "She was most helpful in filling in the blank spaces and was actually the one to suggest I offer you the job. Later, when I had time to go over the more completed file myself, I saw mention of the prophecy. The words were too precise and obscure no to be a fit."

"Do you think it ever clouded your judgment?"

"No," Mycroft turned his head to look Harry in the eyes. "My brother and I aren't the types to blindly believe that fate has been writing on our bodies, marking us with information to help us find the perfect person."

Harry was the one to break the spell, rolling off the bed and stretching as he walked to the master bedroom. "I'm going to go shower and start breakfast, join me when you're ready."

As he shut the door he heard Mycroft clearly call out. "Lunch."

"I can make that too."

* * *

Harry stared into the bathroom mirror currently engrossed in ignoring his reflection. He had removed his cloths from the day before, remembering his cloak and purchase that had been stuffed in his pocket. He knew that if he raised his left arm, just a bit, then his mark would be there, would be seen. Harry wasn't trying to see his reflection, though, he was trying to see what others had. When they had shunned him, praised him, despised him, worshiped him, and expected the world of him.

As he turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, the warm water rolling down his body and easing some of the aches and pains of a sleepless night, Harry wondered what it was that Mycroft saw when he looked at him.

* * *

Breakfast, since Harry absolutely refused to acknowledge the late hour or the not quite smug look on Mycroft's face, ended up having to be ordered out. The downside to owning a flat and never having been in it before was that there was no food to eat. Waiting for the food to arrive had left Harry time to do a quick walk through of the condo and tidy things up a bit, riding the furniture and knickknacks of years of dust and grime. The condo appeared almost entirely muggle friendly, the exception being a locked guest room that included a few wizarding photos of people Harry didn't recognize and a small brewing area. He made a mental note of asking the Goblins who the property had belonged to before his parents.

Harry felt a ripple in the wards and peered out of the room, noting Mycroft still sitting at the table, an began making his was cautiously to the door.

"Problem?"

Harry checked out the door, no one was in the hall.

"I'm not sure. I felt a ripple in the wards, but I don't see anyone."

"Could it have just been a mundane tenant?"

Harry stepped back from the door, eyed it for a moment, before joining Mycroft at the table. "I suppose it's possible, although, I would think it a bit unlikely. This building is primarily muggle, myself being the exception. Having the wards so finely tuned as to indicate when a muggle walks by…"

"I see."

"I never felt anything like it when I was living in Grimuald Place either. Granted the wards are probably different. Still, I guess it just spooked me a bit. After the food gets here I'm going to need to go out for a bit. Think you can hold down the fort?"

Mycroft looked a tad disgruntled. "Is it really necessary that you leave?"

"Do you want mundane delivery boys showing up in what had used to be an empty condo? Might draw attention." Harry mentioned, thinking off the top of his head. "Plus, there are a couple of people I should check up on and I'll need to retrieve Bishop."

"Is it safe?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but paused at the look on Mycroft's face, the look of fear just breaking through the surface. "No one should be able to get in, or out, without me. Mundane or otherwise. Unless, it was my kind that attacked you, there isn't a much safer place I could bring you to, and even my kind would run into some trouble, they'd really have to work for it. I'm attuned to these wards now, in a way I wasn't before, something happens and I'll be back here in a snap of your fingers. This place isn't attached to the floo network either, so you don't have to worry about the fireplace magically enlarging."

"That wasn't something I worried about before." Mycroft snapped.

Harry just shrugged and answered the com when it buzzed to let their food delivery in.

* * *

Harry saved stopping by to check in on Willow for last, curious to how she would take the news of his soulmate and to retrieve Bishop. He found her at home base, she had set up next to his corner of the building. Bishop staying with her didn't leave Harry the ability to surprise her.

"Mrooow. Mrow." Bishop intoned running towards Harry and about knocking him over when Bishop jumped up on him at full speed.

"Hey buddy, miss me?" Harry chuckled while enduring Bishop's mothering.

"You didn't come home last night." Willow chided as Harry came over and hugged her.

"Rough day yesterday, got called in for a job. Had to stay at the safe house with my charge."

"And you need to go back." Willow added before he could finish, a knowing look in her eyes.

Harry frowned. "Yeah, for a few days at least, but I wanted to check in on you. Did you come back here last night?"

"Thought it'd do me some good, shelters get too crowded and the Spring's not so bad to be out in."

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Oh no, Harry." Willow patted his cheek and moved around their area to sit down by a large box she must have found. "Don't you worry about me love, I'll be fine for a couple of days. You go help that person."

"Do you want me to leave Bishop? We both know he talks just to hear himself sometimes, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to stay. Plus, I've got some good news."

Willow waved him off, smiling at his concern. "Take him with you dear, I'll be fine. Save the good news for when you get back."

Harry and Willow exchanged their good byes and Harry left his home for the first time with a sense of unease in his stomach.

* * *

Bishop promptly invited himself onto Mycroft's lap as Harry apparated into the condo and deposited the feline on the floor. "Well, I see who he really likes in this relationship."

Mycroft glared at Harry as he passed into the kitchen, enlarging his shopping and putting it away. "I got us enough to last us a few days, everyone knows not to expect me to be around and I'm sure Willow will find a way to get in touch if I'm needed."

Mycroft just hummed in agreement.

"I was thinking of going an getting Sherlock later…" Harry could feel Mycroft's intense stare on his back. "You aren't the least bit worried about your brother then?"

When Mycroft didn't respond Harry turned to check on him and grimaced at the new cracks in Mycroft's defenses. He walked over to Mycroft and sat on the arm of the chair, his hand resting palm up on his thigh. "I know you care deeply about Sherlock, Mycroft, the jab was ill timed. I'm sure he's fine on his own, but I can honestly say I haven't a clue about what your job really is, and well with the attack yesterday, I'll admit I'm a bit worried, yeah?"

"Sherlock will never agree to come."

"Trust me? I think I have got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Mycroft gripped Harry's hand.

* * *

Harry entered Sherlock's new apartment building and thought it a much better improvement on the last. He didn't know what agreement the brothers had come to, but if this helped in even the least to keep Sherlock sober, Harry was impressed by the compromise.

Sherlock's door opened after the first knock. "You."

"Really, Sherlock, some manners might be nice every once and a while. Maybe you could shock me one day, hmm?

"What does my brother want now?"

"How about you let me in and we'll discuss it." Harry stated pushing his way past Sherlock, surveying the room and deciding to sit on the small love seat. Sherlock threw himself haphazardly onto a well-worn arm chair.

"I need you to do me a favor Sherlock. No, no don't look at me like that. I'm asking for me."

"Not just you." Sherlock muttered.

"Not just me, alright, I can concede to that, but your brother isn't the one asking, Sherlock. I am."

"What did he do this time?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I somehow feel that that is exactly what Mycroft asks about you on a regular basis."

Sherlock snorted in amusement.

Harry grinned and allowed the moment to pass naturally, before setting back to his goal. "I would like for you to pack a few days' worth of things and come with me. Your brother and I are laying low for a bit." The next few words seemed impossible to say around the lump forming in his throat. "Someone attacked your brother at his office yesterday."

Sherlock sat up in a fluid and graceful manner, face blank. "Someone died. You feel guilty."

Harry wasn't above pleading. "Please, not now Sherlock. Just agree?"

"This has affected you more than it should have. You have no emotional investment in Mycroft's employees and as you've previously stated my brother is with you and thus is fine." Sherlock frowned. "You have something else to tell me."

Harry gave a grim smile. "Show you actually, I figured I wasn't getting out of here without at least showing you." Harry brought his arm up and out over the arm of the loveseat, his other hand reaching over to pull back his sleeve and reveal the entirety of his mark.

Harry startled when he felt another hand cover his own. He raised his head to find Sherlock watching him with a curious expression, so mixed Harry couldn't describe it.

"I'll need some time to pack some things and take care of a few experiments." Sherlock announced before bounding off into the recess' of his apartment.

That night, lying next to each other in bed, much in the same way they had the night before, Mycroft finally broke down and asked the question that had shown on his face since Sherlock and Harry had returned. "What did you say that convinced my brother to come?"

"It wasn't words that I used to convince him."

* * *

Breakfast had been a cluster fuck. Whatever truce the Holmes' brothers had come to the night before had apparently passed. Sherlock had woken Harry and Mycroft up by playing his violin, if such screeching could be considered music in any way shape or form, in the living room nearest the master bedroom. Mycroft had pointedly ignored his brother's antics until after he had showered and dressed for the day. Harry was now burrowed under the covers, hoping to get some more sleep. After Mycroft had left the room, Sherlock's violin playing had come to an abrupt stop and the antagonistic sniping at each other had begun. This had lasted until Harry had appeared from the bedroom rumpled and bleary eyed, in desperate search of some sustenance.

Mycroft and Sherlock had then both volunteered to cook breakfast which had, seemingly between one blink and the next turned into some sort of contest, that Harry felt could only truly be understood by the two idiots hell bent on destroying his kitchen. By the time Harry was awake enough to fully understand the situation, he felt both honored and terrified. It appeared that Mycroft and Sherlock, whether consciously or not, were fighting over Harry.

Harry was Mycroft's soulmate, employee, friend and Sherlock's partner in crime, friend, and on occasion confidant. Sherlock and Mycroft did not like to share, wasn't that just great.

One realization, destroyed kitchen, take out call, and bit of magic later, Harry decided he needed a plan of action. Sherlock sat sprawled over one of Harry's arm chairs, hands steepled in front of his face, and Mycroft had disappeared into the one of the rooms. Sherlock looked so young to Harry, in that moment, despite being two years older than Harry himself.

"Have the two of you always acted like this?" Harry inquired.

Sherlock's eyes looked in his direction, but he didn't move otherwise.

"I only ask out of, well curiosity, I guess. I don't have any siblings myself. I was raised with my cousin, but we were worlds different." Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Mycroft wasn't around much by the time I was old enough to truly understand, truly and fully comprehend, how different we were from the others around us. He was off to college by the age of thirteen."

"You only would have been about six right? You both must have matured young then." Harry thought out loud.

"Society can be cruel to those who are different, my brother and I experienced our own fair share of that." Sherlock's eyes cut to Harry's arm. "Societal rules would say that I'm not supposed to inquire about your arm and what lays on it."

"You've never struck me as one to play by societal rules."

Sherlock just arched a brow. "How old were you when it appeared?"

Harry gazed at the flames, watching the flickers of light. "I would have shown it to you yesterday, there aren't many that haven't seen it."

"I didn't need to see it to know."

"I suppose you wouldn't." Harry kept quiet for a few minutes, clearing his head of unwanted thoughts. "I'm not intentionally trying to judge your relationship with your brother, but when I see you two get at each other, I find it almost physically painful. I don't understand your relationship, I didn't live your lives and when I watch the two of you go at each other, I'm only reminded of my own life experiences and they don't shed a rose tinted light on things." Harry stood and stretched, the fire no longer warming him. "I was born with my mark."

Arms wrapped around Harry's waist from behind and Mycroft's voice whispered in Harry's ear. "I am sorry you had to grow up with that on your shoulders."

Harry turned in Mycroft's embrace and stared into his eyes. "Don't be, it wasn't something you could control and to be honest, it wasn't the worst thing I had to carry. I wouldn't trade this for anything." Harry leaned in and kissed Mycroft tentatively and was welcomed by Mycroft in return. The kiss was wet and a bit sloppy, it wasn't fireworks going off, just perfectly imperfect and way better than anything he had ever tried with a female. Hearing Sherlock make gagging noises in the background was just icing on the cake.

"Perhaps it is time we talked." Mycroft stated as he pulled back from the kiss.

"I had thought the same thing, I think I just got off track."

Mycroft led Harry over to the small couch and sat Harry down on the couch next to him. Harry immediately turned and looked up at Mycroft. "I know this has been a rough two days, but I have to know, before we do this. Is this the only time I'm going to know you like this Mycroft? The only time I'm going to truly get a glimpse of the man under the mask? When we leave in a few days, week, month from now, will it go back to the way it was before? It's isn't that I don't like that part of you in my own way…" Harry rambled, as Mycroft put a finger to Harry's lips to quiet him.

"I cannot guarantee that things will be the same from here on out, but neither will they be exactly like before. I suspect we will be able to find an agreeable compromise."

Quirking his head to the side Harry nodded, held his hand out to Mycroft and took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. Mycroft's near instant grip on his hand was reassuring. "School ruined a lot more for me than it helped me in the end. It was in primary school that I learned just how ostracized I was by the people who were raising me and how much worse it could get when everyone treated you that way. I often have a recurring nightmare about 'The Talk' we all got in primary school and the mandatory counseling that followed." Harry bit his tongue in distraction. "Grew used to the stares and whispers after a while, when I went to Hogwarts and was starting to integrate into the Wizarding World it was a lot of the same, just for different reasons. Got used to it I guess, the pain lessened a bit.

"Couldn't figure out families though. I knew by then that the way my aunt and uncle were raising me was wrong, that the way they let Dudley treat me was wrong, but there wasn't anything to replace the wrong. Mrs. Weasley would call me her son, but the term only ever seemed to apply when I was in trouble in her eyes. Then there was Sirius…

"I don't know how much you know about our legal system, but we have a prison called Azkaban and since its known inception it has been guarded by Dementors. Creatures that quite literally suck the happiness right out of you and, when allowed, feed on a person's very soul. Our prisoners become quite deranged from the constant exposure, but everyone just assumes that all the prisoners justly belong there. So why should they be spared a second though."

"Sirius Black, the alert was passed through my office, but without sufficient cause to proceed it was thrown out, we had been looking into the leak that allowed the story into muggle news. I'll have to see what that investigation turned up." Mycroft interrupted in a manner that seemed to indicate to Harry that he was thinking out loud. Sherlock remained a passive observer.

"Sirius Black was my godfather and he died an imprisoned man. I was too young, too angry, too naïve, to realize what was going on. How the "good guys", the people fighting for the ways of the Light never lifted a finger to help prove his innocence. There had been every chance. He escaped Azkaban only to be confined to his own home." Harry continued. "He never got the help he needed either and being confined in the house he had been raised in, had rebelled from. He never really stood a chance. I didn't get to spend nearly as much time with him as I wanted, what with Mrs. Weasleys disapproval and all."

"Sirius Black died? The Yard still has him listed as wanted." Sherlock interjected. "Sally and Anderson talk about it incessantly on crimes scenes, always speculating that Black has stuck again."

"Huh, his death registered with the Goblins, but the Ministry and Order both did a lot of covering their collective asses after it happened. I guess he may have fallen through the cracks, again. Black is legally part of my last name now, at least with them it is."

"He was a mass murderer or so we had been led to believe."

"He was innocent, he never even had a trial." Harry replied morosely.

"A topic we shall be going over more in depth at a later date, but perhaps for now we should make dinner and take some time to relax. I do believe that your beast would like to spend some quality time with you."

Harry squeezed Mycroft's hand and smiled. "You only call him that because you care."

* * *

Harry had insisted on making dinner himself, in fact he had banned both Mycroft and Sherlock from the kitchen following the disaster that they had created just that morning. He had even gone so far as post a sign the wall above the kitchen explicitly listing the reasons why the brothers could not enter. Sherlock had scowled at the sign for fifteen minutes before stalking off to his bedroom to sulk. Mycroft had taken a more reserved approach and sat at the kitchen bar reading one of the books from the potions room/study. He appeared to be reading anyway, but the hairs on the back of Harry's neck suggested otherwise.

"The two of you are acting like children."

"I would have thought that you would approve of our agreeing on something."

"I approve. I would prefer being able to cook in peace. You know, the opposite of what happened this morning?"

"Would it help if I apologized?"

"Would you mean it?"

Harry heard a page turn and Mycroft said no more on the matter. Harry had to remind himself that they were all under stress at the moment and that Mycroft and Sherlock should be up to their normal annoyances soon enough.

"You seem quite adept at cooking."

"Thank you, I hope you'll both enjoy the meal." Harry grinned over his shoulder. "It will be a bit basic today I'm afraid."

Mycroft, still not looking up from his book, added. "While the compliment was a pleasant aside, it was more of an observation."

"Oh, well I've been cooking most of my life." Harry skirted the subject.

"I see."

"I'm sure you do." Harry retorted flatly.


	4. Part III: 2007(b)

Finally an update! This is the second half of Part III and my goal is to have Part IV up before November, so fingers crossed. I am also going back through this fic and editing again so there should be some revisions coming out before the new year if all goes well. All the mistake you find are mine.

* * *

After two more days of sulking by the Holmes' brothers, Harry had had enough. Neither of them outwardly showed their displeasure at their situation anymore, and Harry almost missed the destruction they had caused over the constant forced silence they now lived in. It didn't help that Bishop cried at the door every night to be allowed out of the condo or that the wards still rippled and the occurrence was becoming more frequent. Harry had to accept that he was probably still being stalked and it was only the wards that were keeping him safe from whatever or whomever was out there, but not being able to leave left him with Mycroft and Sherlock. He was almost tempted to just leave and take his chances.

Harry walked out of the bedroom where he had spent most of the day, not hiding of course, and addressed the brothers as they sat in front of the fire.

"We need a plan of action, because we can't stay here forever and we all have jobs we would like to get back to."

Sherlock and Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the same time and Harry amended. "Plus, you both are impossible to live with in such a cramped space for such an extended period of time. Mycroft's manor is one thing, hell if I thought I could get away with it I'd take you to Grimmauld, Merlin knows you couldn't do much more harm to it that's already been done and at least there some of the house fights back." Sherlock looked for more intrigued than Harry would have liked.

"Procedures have been put in place should I ever need to lay low as such, you can return me to my office in two days."

Sherlock had an excited look about him. "You and I could take a trip to this Grimmauld you mentioned."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at this time Sherlock."

"It is your property is it not?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"It is, I inherited it actually, but it was used as a headquarters for the Order and well, the spell that allowed them access then is still in place. I didn't stick around long enough to find out how to revoke it. Anyone could show up, or even be living there right now. I thought you didn't approve of Sherlock getting mixed up with my kind."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Did I say that? I don't remember saying that."

Harry's lips thinned as he scanned Mycroft's face. "You're hoping the house will eat your brother aren't you?"

Mycroft shrugged, neither admitting nor denying. Sherlock stared at his brother intently before looking at Harry and Harry sighed as Sherlock and Mycroft shared a quick, but pleased look with each other. "We are not going to Grimmauld Place, not today, but the moment the spell has been revoked you can both spend as much time there as you want, I'll even look into seeing if muggles can use the Floo Network."

"Floo?"

"Oh yes, how would you like to travel through fireplaces, Sherlock?"

* * *

"I cannot believe you brought it to this." Harry stated glaring at the backs of the Homles' brothers, currently investigating the entry hall and kitchen of Grimmauld. A mere six hours after the Harry had put his foot down and adamantly stated that they were not going to Grimmauld, they were in fact in the house.

Harry had noticed Sherlock inspecting the living room and hadn't given it much thought, until Sherlock had started spending a bit too much time near the fireplace, or more specifically the floo. "Sherlock, what are you doing over there?" Harry called just a moment too late, Sherlock had grasped a handful of the powder, shouted out Diagon Alley, and disappeared in a burst of green flames.

Harry whipped around to find Mycroft standing just beyond his right shoulder, having witnessed his brother's act as well. "I thought you said he deleted magic!" Harry bellowed before catching his chest with his right hand and placing his forehead against the door frame. "Oh Merlin, we have to go after him. Stay here! I need to pop back to the condo and grab a cloak."

* * *

Twenty minutes later found Harry and Mycroft trying to navigate Diagon Alley underneath his invisibility cloak, a bit more unsuccessfully than Harry would prefer. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen and hadn't left any fuss in his wake that Harry had been able to yet spot. If Mycroft stepped on his heel one more time… "Fuck it. You stay under here." Harry swore and slipped from under the cloak into broad daylight. Harry felt one of Mycroft's hands slip into his jacket pocket and Harry put his hand over Mycroft's, hoping to give the illusion of walking casually down the street. It took a bit of work, but they found a rhythm they could both work and continued on in their search for Sherlock.

More and more people were starting to apparate in and Harry could feel the stares and whispers increase. Harry took a chance and ducked into Wizard Weasley Wheezes and found the place pleasantly deserted. Harry flicked his wand at the door behind him, locking it and barring any further entry.

"George?" Harry called, pulling the cloak off Mycroft. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from giggling at the static look Mycroft's hair had taken on. Well, what Mycroft didn't know wouldn't hurt him and in Harry's opinion it would do the man some good to let loose some.

"Harry, that you mate?" George's voice came from the second floor landing.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I've misplaced a muggle friend of mine and the crowds were getting too thick to make searching any good. I'd apologize for locking up your shop, but the storm of customers your likely to get after this…" Harry shrugged good naturedly.

"Don't worry about it mate. 'Sides I think I've got your muggle friend up here with me. Talks real fast, sharp as a whip?"

Mycroft and Harry exchanged a look. "Sounds like Sherlock, alright." Harry answered, leading Mycroft up the stairs.

Harry stopped on the landing and looked George over. The near decade Harry had been gone hadn't been as kind to George as it should have been given their likely time spans. It wasn't anything physical, not quite yet, but he could feel just how much George had aged. Harry was hesitant to get much closer to the man, his body tensing at the memory of the last couple times he had been in the presence of a Weasley. "Hey George, it's been too long."

"Why are you so far away, Harry?" George laughed and pulled him into a hug whispering into Harry's ear. "You shouldn't have kept away so long. Couldn't stand losing another brother."

Harry closed his eyes and fought back the tears, he'd never felt more selfish than in this moment. In protecting himself, in running away, he'd given up on a close and dear friend. Harry hugged George in a tight embrace. Mycroft clearing his throat brought both Harry and George back to reality and they broke apart giving each other sad smiles. "This is Mycroft Holmes, his brother Sherlock escaped us through the floo. We were visiting Grimmauld." Harry grinned at Mycroft and offered his hand out to the man to join them. "Mycroft is my soulmate."

A plume of smoke rolled through the doorway and Harry sighed, almost hitting his head against the palm of his open hand. "We should probably check on Sherlock, he hates being left out. You should see the sibling rivalry these two have going on."

George dashed back into his living quarters while Harry and Mycroft followed at a more sedate pace.

* * *

"So you really traveled to Diagon by floo?" George inquired watching closely as Sherlock investigated some of the stores products.

"Hmm?"

"The fireplace, Sherlock." Harry prompted from his seat between Mycroft and Sherlock at the tabled.

"Oh, yes."

George ruminated for a moment. "Didn't know muggles could do that, heard that squibs could, but I've never actually seen it done."

"I've deduced the function of these products, but I don't understand this one." Sherlock announced holding up a heart shape bottle filled with pink liquid.

Harry glanced at the bottle. "Love potion, guess they're still not illegal then?" George wrinkled his noise.

"Can magic make someone love someone else?" Sherlock asked in displeasure.

Harry snatched the bottle from Sherlock's hand. The glass bottles shape was similar to that of the bottles from all those years ago. "The name is a misnomer, the potions cause infatuation. Seems like love at the time, I suppose. The legal ones anyway."

"The illegal ones?"

"Love potions come in classes based on strength. Amortentia is the strongest love potion, and classed as illegal to make or sell. Nothing, not even magic can manufacture true love out of thin air, but without being under the effects of the potion yourself, or even if you are, how can you tell the difference?" Harry drifted off, leaning over to see what Mycroft was reading. "What are you reading that trash for?"

"Trash would be an apt word for this paper, I was under the impression that this was the leading newspaper for Britain magicals. It reads like a gossip rag, did you know there is a column completely devoted to the stalking of your person, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and played nonchalant. "I'm not surprised, even when I was in school the Prophet was printing this and that about me. There was an entire slandering campaign my fifth year. To whom am I marrying this week?"

Mycroft snapped the newspaper open and continued reading, looking quite perturbed. Harry just grinned and knocked his shoulder against Mycroft's.

"Any products you'd like to take with you when you go, Harry?"

"Not, today George, but thanks. Business is doing well then?"

"It comes and goes sometimes, but between the new products and the old we always come out on top in the end. Hired a couple of Hogwarts graduates a few years ago, helps to keep up with the demand and bring in new ideas."

"Ron didn't stick around then?"

"The whole family was helping here and there after the war, Ron stayed on longer than the others, but left permanently about a year and a half in. He spends an awful lot of time these days visiting with Mum, not sure where he gets the gold to support his family, but you'd think mum and dad would have a little more to themselves now that all us kids are out of the house." George gave a disgruntled sigh.

"Surely Hermione knows."

"No offense mate, but Hermione hasn't been the same since the war. None of us have, but Mum and Ron played into every bit of insecurity she had back then. Her parents were gone, no way to reverse that bit of magic and her and Ron are soulmates. None of us thought to look twice, it was romantic and "provided new hope to our devastated world", last I knew she was editing textbooks in her spare time."

Sherlock was looking a bit restless. "Why doesn't Harry have to pay? That's what you meant right?"

"Harry was Fred and mine's first investor, gave us enough to cover the startup costs."

Harry could tell Mycroft was intrigued by this. "Investor?"

"It's not a big deal." Harry murmured, cheeks turning pink.

"Harry gave us his winnings from the TriWizard Tournament."

"Like chess?"

"I wouldn't have won a game chess, let alone wizarding chess, and before you ask Sherlock, the pieces move. It's getting late and I'd like to get back to the condo and check on Bishop." Harry stated as he stood from the table. "It was good seeing you George, Sherlock don't make me check you for any products."

"We should get together sometime, Harry. Lunch?"

"Mind having it in Muggle London? I try to avoid Diagon Alley these days. Mind if we use your floo?'

After seeing Sherlock and Mycroft safely through to Grimmauld, George came up to Harry and hugged him tightly. "Just don't be a stranger, alright? You're welcome here anytime. I don't carry the same views my family did back then."

Harry nodded and walked into the floo.

* * *

Three days later Harry popped into Mycroft's office and set a box down on Mycroft's desk, barely able to keep the grin off his face. "I got you a present, for the new office."

"Is it the plant you still owe me?"

"Just open the box, Mycroft."

Mycroft gave Harry a look and proceeded to open the box, the puffskein hummed in delight and began to wobble back and forth. "You brought me a tribble?"

"A what? It's a puffskein, George breeds them. It's where the pygmy puffs in the store come from."

"Those wretchedly bright colored monstrosities?"

"Teenage girls like them." Harry shrugged. "What's a tribble?"

* * *

Harry had been treating some bruising and a split lip on one of the teenagers, the boy was newer and had fought to keep a blanket he had found; not everyone as kind as the lot that Harry regularly treated. He had just finished healing the lip and was getting ready to give the boy some advice when the air left his lungs and he dropped to his knees winded. He could vaguely remember that a few of the others had helped him get back up as he stumbled out of the building, using the walls for support and struggling to get enough air into his lungs.

The others may have called after him, but Harry didn't stop, couldn't stop. He was aware enough that he shouldn't attempt apparation instead he stumbled almost drunkenly feeling as if it took forever to reach his destination. An alley hidden in the bowels of London, dark and ominous as the sky continued to grey with the growing storm. Wind swept through the city in a rage, dragging particulates from all corners of London and converging on the alley Harry now stood in.

Crossing the threshold seemed to break the spell, Harry could breathe again, could stand upright and walk again. The city waited, as if holding its breath.

Harry spotted her, about three quarters of the way down the alley before it dead ended. To look at her caused Harry to flash back to the war, the quiet stillness about her that came in the presence of death, when handed out by magic. There was no blood, no bruising, just the stillness. She lay on the ground, almost peaceful, no shock or surprise on her face. She had faced her attacker, but had welcomed, maybe even expected death to come to her that night.

As Harry dropped to his knees at her side a brush of fur startled him. Bishop limped past Harry to sit by Willow's head, crying out mournfully when his paw touched her cheek and she didn't respond. Holding out his hand to his familiar Harry became very aware of just how close he had come to losing both Bishop and Willow. Guilt clung to him as he realized that it hadn't been Willow's death that had brought him here, but Bishop's labored breathing.

Finding the strength to stand, Harry collected his familiar in his arms and held him close. He allowed himself one last look before turning away with a crack.

* * *

The crack of apparation was loud even to Harry's ears as he appeared in the in the master bedroom of the condo, jostling Bishop and wincing as his familiar gave a soft cry. Harry gently placed Bishop on the bed and took a step back to try and take in everything that had just happened. He ran a hand through his hair and paced the bedroom; he knew that he and Bishop would be safe here tonight. The wards may ripple, but Harry had every confidence that they would not fall. He knew it from the feel, the way they had been woven, these wards belonged to the Goblins and warding was definitely their craft.

Bishop needed tending to, though, and while Harry trusted himself with years of experience of working on humans, he knew that he was currently too adrenaline filled to even attempt anything on his familiar. He wasn't sure if wizard vetrinarians even existed and he had no way of contacting one safely if they did. That left muggles and Harry was sure they'd be able to help Bishop, but did he dare take them from the safety of the condo? Did he risk giving Mycroft the address and bringing the man here? What if Mycroft became injured in the process?

Harry stifled a sob and curled up on the bed next to Bishop, body buzzing with adrenaline, and reached out with shaky hands to gently run his hands through Bishop's fur. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and lifted it up to his ear, repeating the address of his current location twice to the person on the other line and abruptly hanging up.

* * *

Harry was pondering the merit of having Sherlock and Mycroft's residences warded, weighing the pros and cons, the man appeared in the doorway. Harry had felt the man pass into his current area of awareness and when the knock at the door had come, Harry had just waved his hand and unlocked the door, preferring not to get up and move.

"Bishop needs a vet." Harry whispered hoarsely, confident in Mycroft's ability to hear him and procure one as Mycroft stepped back out of the room and walked back down the hall, his voice just filtering through the distance as he gave his orders.

When Mycroft returned he still came no closer than the doorway. "One shall be here shortly."

"You can come in." Harry said as he gingerly sat up and noticed Mycroft giving the room a wary glance.

"Interesting weather we've had today."

"Oh? I hadn't been paying much attention."

Mycroft's dithering look was almost enough to make Harry grin, but the reality of the situation just wouldn't shake. "A magical killed a mundane today, Aurors will need to be notified."

"A file has already made its way to my office, the Queen is already aware of the situation. Aurors were dispatched some time ago, they have been making quite a fuss about wanting to be put in contact with the witch or wizard that had caused quite a ruckus with that storm." Mycroft reported as he made to sit on the opposite side of the bed, careful not to jostle Bishop. "Your name has already been dropped curiously enough. I'd even go so far to say you might be a suspect. Curious way to run a department of law enforcement."

"I can't take the credit for killing the woman."

"I suspected as much."

"I'm not going to cooperate with them either. They'd have me locked up in Azkaban without a trial in a heartbeat."

"As an employee for me, you are protected. The Crown will not take lightly to the pursuing of your person, they've come to find out."

Harry could faintly hear the buzzer at the door going off and Mycroft excused himself. He returned a few minutes later with a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, whose name Mycroft mentioned but Harry paid no heed. His sole focus was Bishop and the careful watch of his familiar in her care.

* * *

Bishop was going to be fine, the veterinarian had confirmed. Harry would have to try and make sure Bishop took it easy for a week or more, but he had no breaks, dislocations, or any apparent internal bleeding. Harry was given a list of things to look out for and was instructed to call the emergency number listed if any of them occurred, but otherwise Bishop should be fine. Harry suspected his cat's well being had more to do with his magical lineage than being a case of simply being bruised, not that he was complaining.

"Thank you." Harry murmured into Bishops fur as he cradled the cat to his chest.

"Think nothing of it."

Harry raised his head and moved to stand directly in front of Mycroft. "I mean it, Mycroft. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Harry. Arrangements are being made for your friend, are there any specific requests you may have?"

Harry shifted Bishop and gently placed him on the ground, freeing his arms to hug Mycroft fiercely. "I would ask how you knew, but it doesn't really matter does it?" Harry asked sounding a bit choked. "Thank you for everything Mycroft, for all that you do. I was thinking earlier, when did I come to rely on you so much, but I should have been asking why couldn't I have been able to rely on you sooner? We missed so much time."

Mycroft didn't respond with words, he just held Harry tightly, eased them back on to the bed and stayed the night.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the open curtains of the bedroom. Harry scrunched up his nose and attempted to roll over and burry himself underneath the covers. He cracked open an eye to find himself wrapped up and held against Mycroft's chest, who else did he know who dressed in such fine clothes, as the man still slept, a soft snore audible with every few breaths. Harry had to reign in a chuckle as he watched the man sleep.

As Harry laid there the realization that he hadn't had any nightmares the night before hit him. After the day he had had yesterday, the emotional upheaval he had gone through, the reminder of the war. Just remembering the events made Harry shudder and lean in closer to Mycroft.

"Good morning, Harry." Mycroft's voice rumbled in his ear.

Harry rubbed his cheek across the fabric of Mycroft's shirt. "Morning, Mycroft. Have any important meetings today?"

"Nothing that cannot be rescheduled."

"I don't want to keep you from anything."

A hand rested on Harry's head. "I think I am due for a day off."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to your office?"

"I arrived here by car."

"It's just after everything that happened yesterday..."

Mycroft buttoned his jacket and joined Harry by the couch. "I have a feeling that should anything happen you will be right by my side." Mycroft held out his hand and Harry grasped it, giving a gentle squeeze. "I have meetings tomorrow and Friday that will require me to leave the office, otherwise if you have need of me I shall be where I always am."

"Thank you for taking Bishop in."

"He eats Tribble and you won't be so thankful." Mycroft added with a raised eyebrow.

Harry chuckled and drew closer to Mycroft, standing just in front of him, almost chest to chest. "I still can't believe you named him that. "

Mycroft pressed his lips to Harry's forehead. "It seemed appropriate at the time."

They shared a brief hug and Harry walked with Bishop and Mycroft down to the car. Mycroft had agreed to take Bishop in, for a trial period, or at least as long as it took for the cat to heal. Bishop hadn't complained as much as Harry thought he would. Harry watched as Mycroft and Bishop loaded into the car and exchanged parting words with Mycroft through the rolled down window.

"I'm going to stay in today and tomorrow I have lunch with George, after that I will be out again, like normal. I'll be sure to keep my phone close though. You two take care. "

"And yourself, Harry. We do hope to see you soon."

Harry watched as the car drove away and felt oddly unsettled. It was becoming more and more difficult to say goodbye to Mycroft.

* * *

Harry arrived first, it was a quaint café that had a small privacy section in the back. Mycroft had insisted on making a reservation for Harry and his friend. He gave the café a cursory glance, mostly college age patrons in the front with a slightly older clientele in the back. As the hostess seated Harry at his table he smiled at Mycroft's forethought for a corner table and elected to sit with his back to the corner. He was a bit nervous to visit with George by himself, Sherlock and Mycroft could be overwhelming to take on at the same time and Harry worried at how differently George may act without the two present. He knew he was probably over reacting, Fred and George had always been good friends, and it was Harry's own fault for not trusting George more in those last days.

"Such a serious look, Harry." George announced as he came up to the table, startling Harry. "Didn't mean to startle you though."

"No worries George, just have a bit on my mind." Harry responded as George sat across from him. "How have you been?"

"Good, good. So, if you don't mind my asking, what has you shaken?"

"Does it show that much?"

George looked at him in concern. "If you know what to look for. Are you alright, Harry?"

"Lost a close friend a couple days ago. It was sudden and has definitely thrown me a bit."

"I'm sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do for you, Harry, you know you just have to ask."

Harry gave a self-deprecating grin. "Thanks, George. That's really decent of you."

"You're a friend…"

"Haven't been much of one lately, though."

George studied Harry for a bit before leaning across the table, grasping Harry's hands, and looking him directly in the eye. "I won't say I wasn't angry when you disappeared. I had no way of knowing if you were alright or if you knew that I didn't agree with the rest of my family's views. It upset me that you may have just lumped me in with them, I thought we had been better friends than that. I was also in a bad place still, I couldn't look at the situation objectively. I could hardly leave my shop still without worrying about having a breakdown and it was easier to take it out on you, but that didn't make it right.

"After Ron had stopped working at the shop, I was in a much better place then, and I started to really think about all that was going on in our world. The marriages, the babies, the celebrations. It all seemed so fake, forced almost. The Prophet was already starting to pick you apart. Mum was always quick to put you down whenever your name was mentioned. Ron and Hermione would usually chime in. Words like duty and responsibility were thrown around without thought." George released his hands and sat back in his chair. "The more I looked, the more I listened, the more I thought about it, I realized that I would have left too. I mean what did you have left? You gave your life for us and we turned around and just demanded more."

A waitress came by and took their orders and they sat in a comfortable silence until their meals arrived. Harry mentally chewed on what George had said. He was relieved to have it confirmed that George didn't follow his families views, or that of the wizarding population of Great Britain at large.

George broke the silence. "If it would be alright with you, I'd like to tell Bill and Charlie that you and I are in contact with each other. We've talked about you some, on and off, over the years. I think they would like to have a chance to apologize to you for what happened that night."

"I wouldn't ask you to keep out lunches a secret from those you love, George, but with what's going on in the Prophet and all, there are risks to being around me."

"Unfortunately, there has always been a risk."

"Yeah and last time it ended in a war…"

"What has you so rattled, Harry?"

Harry paused and considered the situation. He didn't want to put his friend in any more danger than he already may have. "My friend that passed, she was killed by a witch or wizard. I've known about the stalking, but it's gotten pretty serious lately and then she was killed. To top it all off, I was informed that when Aurors arrived on scene I was their immediate suspect. I'd really like to keep out of Azkaban, George."

"Shit, Harry. It's like after the TriWizard Tournament all over again."

"Minus Dumbledore and what few protections there are for minors in our world, yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"Mycroft says I've got rights and protections, so I should be alright for now."

"The muggle that you showed up with? Isn't he your soulmate?"

"He is also my boss." Harry stated with a smile.

"Look no offense, Harry, but does he treat you well? Both he and his brother seemed a bit off. Mycroft though gave me chills, and with what your mark says. Is he safe?"

Harry bit back a frown and gut response, giving himself a moment to think through George's concerns. "I would say you just need to get to know him, but to be truthful I don't think there are many he allows to see past the mask. Sherlock and I might be the only exceptions. Mycroft and I aren't your typical whirlwind bonding romance couple. That's not who we are. I don't know that I can put it in words really, or that there's anything I can say to assuage your concerns. It's still a bit of a work in progress."

"You're safe with him?"

"George, I honestly don't think there's a safer place on the planet, then when I'm with him. At the least we make quite a team."

George took a last bite of his meal. "Well that's enough for me. As long as your happy, Harry."

"Very much."

"Going to tell me how you two met?"

Harry laughed at the memory. "He kidnapped me." George looked alarmed and Harry continued. "I was working with Sherlock, got a bit closer than most do I guess given Sherlock's nature, and social norms sort of go out the window when you are around them. So, Mycroft sent his assistant to fetch me, brought me to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. We chatted, he offered me a job."

"He kidnapped you and then offered you a job."

"It's not the strangest thing to happen while around the two of them and if Bishop gets involved…"

"Bishop?" George inquired.

"My familiar, he's a cat, some sort of mix breed mundane and magical." Harry sighed and dug his hands into the napkin on his lap. "He's staying with Mycroft currently, he was injured when my friend was killed."

"He's alright?"

"He is going to be just fine. As long as he doesn't eat he puffskein I gave Mycroft."

"That's who you gave the puffskien to?"

"Don't look like that George." Harry said as George made a face. "Mycroft isn't going to eat it, he's quite attached. Not that he'd ever admit it."

"I don't know how you do it Harry."

"Do what?"

"Attract so much trouble."

Harry smiled good naturedly. "Well, I've come to learn that not all trouble is bad, but there is no denying that the Holmes' brothers are definitely trouble. Enough about me though, how have you been? You've told me about the store and your family. Tell me about you."

"I have more good days than bad. The shop runs a whole lot more smoothly now with the extra help and well and truly being on my own has really given me a new view of the world. That's not to say that it isn't tough, but I'd like to think that he'd be proud you know."

"Yeah, mate. I know he would."

"Mum still gets on to me every once and a while about settling down, but I don't think I'm just ready yet. I think part of me is holding out, you know? I don't know how mum would feel about my soulmate being a muggle, but I don't really get the feeling they're a witch or wizard. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. Think of how mum would freak."

"Would it really bother her? What about your dad?"

"Our family may be considered blood traitors, but we are purebloods and while we may not be liked, we are still held to certain standards. Dad's never said one way or another, but I think Mum would have arranged our marriages if she could have. She was raised with those traditions."

"What about Ron and Hermione then?"

"Well it depends on the family really. Traditionally Ron would have had a marriage contract arranged after his mark showed, but seeing as how that isn't the case in our family it kind of boils down to, any magic is better than none. It's not been a problem, yet." George stared down at the table, looking conflicted. "Actually, I've got something I need to tell you about. I should have brought it up sooner, but we just got to talking and, well, there's never a right moment."

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't usually read the Prophet, it gets delivered every day, but I usually just give it to the others when we have breakfast, before we open shop. So after your visit I started I started flipping through it, took notice of the column and the other things that were being written pertaining to you. Well when I was at dinner with the family Sunday I overheard Ron and Hermione talking to Mum and Ginny. I didn't hear it all, so I can't be one-hundred percent sure, but I thought I overheard them mention a tracking spell being used by the column followers. One that's not entirely legal. It's used to track your magic instead of your person. The reason it's not illegal is because Aurors can use it, but it is supposed to be brought before the Wizengamot, a petition of sorts before use in each individual case."

"I doubt that's actually happening and even if it was, the Wizengamot probably just turns a blind eye."

George shrugged.

"Thank you, George, I know it couldn't be easy to learn that and face the fact that at least some of your family knows about it. It actually makes sense, really. How someone or someones found the place I'm currently staying and why the wards ripple with more frequency. I apparate in and out, the floo isn't connected and I thought it would have been safer than going in and out on foot. I should probably go though, I'd like to check on Mycroft and Bishop before I head home." Harry and George stood to leave, Harry left the correct change on the table for the meal, and they headed out the door. "Take care of yourself, George, and use the phone to let me know when you want to get together again. It was good to really catch up."

"You take care of yourself too, Harry. Be careful, try to keep out of trouble."

"You may need to talk to trouble about that, it usually finds me. See ya, George."

George waved and walked off into the crowd, likely to find a quiet spot to apparate from. Harry watched until he couldn't see him and flipped open his phone. "Think I could get a ride?"

* * *

Mycroft had gone so far as to set up a small memorial type service for Willow, nothing structured or fancy. People could come and go as they pleased, but for a whole day Willow was remembered. Most didn't speak or wouldn't go all the way in to the small room that had been set up in the back of the building Harry lived, but as more and more showed Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people whose lives Willow had touched.

Mycroft had also sent along a few counselors for those who may seek it. Even less chose to speak to the two women, but Harry was glad that even a few did as he stood watch over the event. It wasn't often someone listened to those who lived on the streets and Harry knew from experience the kind of toll that could take over time, the inherent loneliness in knowing that there was no one to really talk to, because everyone around you carried an unimaginable burden of their own. Maybe, Harry thought, it was why the gesture on Mycroft's part meant so much to Harry. Willow had carried many of their secrets, even gone so far as to help lessen a few burdens. It was only fitting that her memorial carried on that tradition.

Harry stayed the whole day, from the moment of set up until the moment of break down. A memorial left was behind for those who may make their way in their own time or may wish to return at a later instance. Harry had chanced a small spell to protect the area from the elements and time.

Mycroft waited for him in the car, Bishop and Tribble waited for their return home. Harry could finally say goodbye.

* * *

As he lay on top of Mycroft, his head rested over the man's heart listening to the steady rhythm, one hand intertwined with Mycroft's the other tracing his collarbone through the soft and pliable fabric of Mycroft's shirt, Harry allowed himself to mourn. Not in tears, or rage, or fear, but in life that surrounded him. In the constant hum of the city, the comforting purr of Bishop mixed with the constant hum of Tribble, in the pulsing beats beneath his ear. Part of him still felt guilty at her passing, in that if Bishop hadn't been attacked would he even have noticed? Eventually, of course, he would have sought her out. What really hurt was having to leave her, in the turmoil of his emotions Harry had known that Bishop needed help and with Willow beyond that point, he had left her behind. Anything could have happened to her.

"You should sleep." Mycroft leaned down, pushing Harry's messy locks out of the way and whispered in his exposed ear.

Harry couldn't bring himself to respond and squeezed Mycroft's hand in acknowledgment.

"Perhaps we should visit Sherlock tomorrow." Mycroft mused. "He texted me earlier, wanted a passport prepared. Says he is going to Florida."

Harry shifted his head a bit, pushing it up into Mycroft's hand. "Those poor people."

"For the last time Sherlock, I'm not your babysitter. So if you'd please leave me be I'd like to take a nap."

"Mycroft sent you?"

"He didn't, not exactly. I chose to come and Mycroft agreed."

Sherlock slipped into his jacket in a huff.

"Look I'm not here to tell you how to live, but you may want to rethink the jacket." Harry retorted as Sherlock rushed out of the hotel room. "Or not. Now I'm probably going to have to treat the idiot for heat stroke."

* * *

"Let me get this straight. You helped the lady ensure her husband got the death penalty and she's letting you stay in one of her flats back in London for a reduced price?"

"Precisely."

"I need to stop spending so much time around you and your brother. That almost sounds normal."

* * *

The seasons began to change, Sherlock and Harry returned from the Florida with little fanfare and life went on. Harry still lived among the homeless, treating them, getting to know them better. He visited Willow's memorial once after his return, but hadn't been back since. He visited with Mycroft twice a week, when work didn't bring them together sooner, and stayed over for one of those nights. Bishop had taken up permanent residence with Mycroft and shadowed the man to work every morning. Tribble was content to doze on Mycroft's bed all day. Harry met with George once a month for lunch, for the most part they talked about everyday things, and left the woes of the world at the café door. Sherlock still worked cases, both through word of mouth and Scotland Yard. Mycroft had mentioned in passing his plans to meet one Detective Inspector Lestrade. Harry would just put his head in his palm and sigh, he didn't understand why they just couldn't invite the man to Christmas dinner and be done with it. Sherlock told them to stop being so disgustingly domestic during one of his visits, or in Sherlockian terms invasions to Mycroft's home.

Which is how when Christmas rolled around, Harry found himself spending it yet again with the Holmes' brothers. Harry and Mycroft had finally come to a compromise in the regards to Detective Inspector Lestrade, if Harry let Mycroft "kidnap" the man, then Harry could invite him over for Christmas dinner, as a gesture of kindness and normalcy. As a plus, Harry was allowed to decorate the manor however he saw fit for the holiday. Harry planned on taking full advantage of the compromise and couldn't be happier, well, maybe if the "kidnapping" wasn't necessary, but he digressed.

"When will Greg be arriving?" He called out from the kitchen.

"Gregory." Mycroft emphasized. "Will be arriving at six this evening. Same as when you asked an hour ago, dear."

Harry stuck his head out of the kitchen archway to glare at Mycroft and noticed that Sherlock looked suspiciously blank faced. "Don't you 'dear' me, Mycroft."

Mycroft never looked up from his mobile. Harry sucked in a breath and walked back to the oven determined not to give in to his frustration, he could sick Bishop on the two of them later. He knew he was making a big deal out of this and it was more than likely going to go to hell, but he wanted to try at least. Greg had survived Mycroft's antics and had been honestly open to spending the holiday dinner with the three of them, Harry had gone so far as to ask the man himself. And while he accepted Mycroft and Sherlock for who and what they were whole heartedly, that didn't mean he trusted them not to fuck with him, or each other, during this dinner.

The doorbell rang a while later and Harry put a stasis charm on the food, walked past Mycroft and Sherlock in the living room, giving Mycroft a look as he started to stand, and walked into the foyer to open the door. "Good evening Detective Inspector, please come inside, if you'll follow me we can make a quick stop in the coat room before joining the Holmes'."

"Ah, hello. Hope you don't mind my asking, but are you their butler? It's just that you delivered the invitation and now with the door."

Harry chuckled and noticed Greg looked a bit uncomfortable. "No, not their butler, though it can feel like it at times. My name is Harry, Harry Potter, and the elder Holmes, Mycroft, is my soulmate. I apologize for not introducing myself when I dropped off the invitation. If you stick around long enough you'll get why I do the things I do. I find it makes things easier for all involved." Harry looked back to see Greg giving him an odd look. He took Greg's coat and hung it up before addressing the man. "Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them, idiots they may be." Harry smiled. "But, sometimes they can be too smart for their own good, I'm sure you've seen it working with Sherlock." Greg nodded. "They've become my family and I try to smooth the way when I can. Fair warning they can be a bit much to take on together, don't worry though, I've got your back."

Harry led Greg into the living room, Mycroft had stood, making his way towards them, while Sherlock hadn't deigned the situation worthy of leaving his seat.

"Gregory, a pleasure to see you again." Mycroft stated coming to stand beside Harry, holding out his hand, not to Greg but to Harry. Harry gave Mycroft a look, but gladly grasped his hand, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Mr. Holmes, Sherlock. Thank you for the invitation. You have a lovely home, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft just nodded and Harry had to squeeze the man hand to make him get the hint. "Please call me Mycroft and you know my brother."

"Well…I'm going to go finish dinner, should be ready in about twenty minutes." Harry stared Mycroft and then Sherlock directly in the eyes. "Play nice, I mean it. I know where you sleep and I have a cat."

Taking a deep breath Harry left the room and hoped for the best.

* * *

Dinner was an overwhelming success. Greg easily switched between talking to Mycroft about crime statistics in London and going over old cases with Sherlock. Mycroft complimented Harry on his cooking and Greg was quick to second, the biggest compliment coming from Sherlock when he asked for seconds on dessert. After dinner they all retired to the living room, Mycroft and Greg made easy conversation and Sherlock curled up with a book in front of the fire. Bishop wondered in and after exacting his due of a petting from Greg the feline joined Harry on the couch deciding to curl up and sleep on Harry's lap. Midnight had long come and gone when Greg started to doze and Mycroft graciously offered one of his guest rooms.

Harry waited until Mycroft had come back before getting up and walking over to Sherlock, still sprawled over the chair. "Thank you, Sherlock." Harry kneeled down in order to best hug the man. Sherlock stiffened at first, but gradually relaxed. "I know you both really tried tonight and it really means a lot to me, best Christmas present you could have gotten me." Harry stood and walked over to Mycroft to hug him as well. "Goodnight, Sherlock, see you in the morning."

As Mycroft led Harry to their room that night, Harry realized that he felt well and truly complete when he spent time with his family and the Holmes' brothers were without a doubt his family.


	5. Part IV: 2008

There's just the epilogue left now and I'm only just getting to start on the editing. So November is still my goal to have this completed by. Work keeps me busy folks and the epilogue needs some work. Hope you enjoy this update though.

This fic does not have a Beta, so all mistakes are my mistakes. As a note this fic a scene from this chapter was removed as to not violate the TOS, the chapter can be read in full on AO3.

* * *

Mycroft, Harry, and Sherlock brought in the new year in the same fashion that they brought in the last one; seated in a empty alley with a not so great view of the fireworks. Sherlock had disappeared when the fireworks had ended, leaving Harry and Mycroft to head home together. As they entered Mycroft's residence Harry was pulled into Mycroft's embrace and kissed senseless.

"Happy New Year to you too." Harry laughed as he caught his breath.

Mycroft looked almost shy. "Stay with me."

Harry pulled Mycroft into the bedroom and closed the door. "You wouldn't ask if you meant just the night." Harry looked up at Mycroft's face and read the uncertainty.

"That is correct."

"Ask me properly?" Harry asked with a sly smile as he held out his hand, palm up.

Mycroft's stature became determined and he gripped Harry's hand pulling him close. "Harry James Potter, will you live with me?"

"Yes." Harry breathed, relief settling in his bones. He gave Mycroft a peck on the cheek and turned towards the bathroom. "Why don't you take Tribble and Bishop to another room and get them settled. I need a shower."

He listened as Mycroft gathered their critters while Harry undressed and turned on the shower. The room became steamy and warm quickly as he entered the open style shower stall and quickly adjusted the shower heads. Harry let his mind drift as he scrubbed off the feeling of dirt and grime that never really left from all the time he'd spent living on the streets. It'd taken ten years to get to this place, but Harry finally felt like he had a real home again and it was the best home yet. Harry knew it might not make sense to others, Mycroft and even Sherlock would put you through your paces before they even considered allowing you to get close, but it was well and truly worth it.

* * *

Harry came to, spread eagle on the bed and shivering at the pass of a cooled wash cloth over his chest and thighs. He blinked owlishly as his heart still raced and sound came to him fadingly over the white noise. He attempted to tell Mycroft he had cheated, but his mouth wasn't quite cooperating yet. Mycroft must have gotten his drift though, because Harry could feel his soulmate's chuckle reverberate over his skin.

"So glad you could rejoin the living, dear." Mycroft stated as he crawled into bed next to Harry, pulling the sheets up around the both of them.

"Bastard." Harry breathed affectionately as he turned on to his side and rested his head on Mycroft's chest, pleasantly thrilled to hear the elevated rhythm of Mycroft's heart under his ear. "I don't know if I'll make it if we try and christen the other rooms just as enthusiastically."

"I have every confidence you'll be great."

"Mmm." Harry rubbed his head against Mycroft's chest and yawned. "I'm glad I waited, Mycroft. Glad I didn't give in to their demands. It would have been so easy, to just lay down and give up. To give into my fears about meeting you, finding you."

Mycroft's arm tightened around Harry. "I often wondered when my mark would fade"

"I never asked you what it says."

Mycroft turned over his left arm to reveal his forearm, etched there in an elegant scrawl read the words _and either must die at the hand of the other_.

Harry's breath hitched. "I did die, though, to beat him. It was only for a moment, I think. One minute I'm having a conversation with my old, dead, Headmaster in and empty, brightly lit Kings Cross Station and the next Mrs. Malfoy is leaned over me asking if her son was still alive."

"The mark takes a year or more to fade in those whose soulmate dies. A backup, perhaps, for those whose soulmate crosses over and come back, heart attack victims and the like."

"I almost didn't come back." Harry whispered, ashamed.

Mycroft didn't answer for a long time and Harry squeezed his eyes closed. "I think there is a conversation we need to have that we have been putting off for a while."

"Tomorrow?"

Mycroft kissed the top of Harry's head. "Goodnight, Harry."

Harry squeezed Mycroft's hand and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up first and already had already eaten breakfast when Mycroft joined him, dressed the most casually Harry had ever seen him. White button down shirt untucked and his favorite black slacks; favorite because in all the times Harry had been with Mycroft these were to only pair he wore at home on his days off. "Would you like me to make you something?"

"Not this morning. Did you sleep well?" Mycroft inquired as he made his way over to the chair across from Harry.

"I slept very well, thanks." Harry grinned as he curled up in his chair, knees pulled up and arms wrapped around his legs, and got comfortable.

"If it any point you no longer wish to continue this conversation let me know. You do not have to do this Harry. I would just like to…better understand."

"Alright, well. Like I told Sherlock, I was born with my mark as my aunt and uncle would constantly remind me. I don't know that they even knew officially or not if that was true, but I suppose since it was already there when I was left on their doorstep, they may have just said it to be cruel without actually knowing."

"Left on their doorstep?"

Harrys sighed. "You know about my parents being murdered by Voldemort, right?" When Mycroft nodded Harry continued. "Headmaster Dumbledore had me retrieved from my parent's wrecked home."

"Why would a school administrator have any authority over your housing placement?"

"He didn't, he just had me moved. Then he left me on my aunt and uncle's doorstep with a letter."

"On a chilly November morning?"

Harry gave a sardonic grin. "We aren't going to get very far if you keep asking questions. I don't mind, but…"

"I will attempt to refrain."

"Umm, so I was left on the doorstep and my aunt found me the next morning. I was in their care from then until I reached the age of majority for my kind. I attended muggle primary school, my cousin was a bully and until Year 4 I didn't understand the social impact of having been born with my mark. My cousin would constantly bring it up, repeating after his parents like he had every right in the world, when he and his gang bullied me, so I thought the reason I didn't have any friends was because of his actions, not his words. After we received the lecture I was a bit inconsolable for a while." Harry took a deep breath. "My aunt and uncle rarely resorted to physical abuse, my uncle grabbed me a few times and my aunt aimed a few blows with a frying pan a time or two, but for the most part as long as I did the chores they set out for me, they relegated their abuse to the emotional kind and let society have it's fair shot at me. Those damn required in-school counseling sessions are a form of abuse all on their own. When I entered the wizarding world for the first time I was just relieved to not have the whispers and stares be about my soulmate mark."

"No one visited you before receiving your letter to prepare you for entering a magical school?"

"No one knew where I was outside of Headmaster Dumbledore, Hagrid, Headmistress McGonagall and a squib name Arabella Fig."

Mycroft nodded. "That would coincide with the information that was eventually made ready for us."

"So I made rash decisions when it came to making friends as I entered Hogwarts. Before, no one wanted to be my friend because of societal rules and then they wanted that honor for all the wrong reasons, but I soaked it all up and reveled in it."

"Understandable"

"Mmm. I won't go into all the fine details, we'd be here for days, but a sane person would have had Hogwarts shut down. You can see what that says about the world I come from. I faced Voldemort when I was eleven and the Headmaster left a the Philosophers Stone right were Voldemort would come and get it. When I was twelve I faced a younger version of the man. I say man, but I'm using the term loosely. Later I would learn that Tom Riddle, as Voldemort was known when he was younger, made horcruxes. Nasty bit if magic that splits the soul and houses it in a container, typically, of the spellcaster's choosing. Of course, that wasn't the only bit that year, there was also a Basilisk moving around the school through the pipes. I get stabbed through the arm when I killed it, should have died, but a Phoenix showed up and cried for me." Mycroft made looked a bit confused. "I can go into detail later, so let's see, third year Sirius escaped Azkaban and the Ministry in all its wisdom sent Dementors to the school. Fun fact about Dementors they suck all the happy right out of you and given the opportunity eat souls. Didn't get to play with Voldemort that year, but did use a time turner to save a hippogriff and help Sirius escape custody. Fourth year someone thought it would be a good idea to bring back the TriWizard Tournament. Basically three schools get together, choose champions to compete for their school, and then compete in three dangerous tasks to determine a winner throughout the school year. Someone put my name in of course, and as you know I won. After watching Voldemort be resurrected, dueling with Voldemort in a cemetery, and watching the other Hogwarts champion be murdered."

"Was that a task?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"I wouldn't have put it past them. I mean, a student died and the Ministry spent the next year using a smear campaign against me. No counseling. No investigation. School wasn't even suspended for any period of time. Sirius risked his neck for me that year. On the weekends we were allowed to leave the castle and visit the small village nearby, my friends and I would sneak out to meet up with him and talk. Never got the chance to get as close to him as I wanted though. There just always seemed to be something keeping us apart."

Harry shifted and ran a hand through his hair. "My fifth year the Ministry sent in a dictator for a teacher and let her abuse the students, it's where I got the fun bit of scaring on my left hand. I don't know what kind of qualifications someone has to have to be a teacher at Hogwarts, but I doubt she had them. She wasn't the only one I'd question on that fact over the years.

"Found out about a connection between myself and Voldemort from that was tricked into breaking into a department in the Ministry. Voldemort showed up; Sirius died. After that, things just didn't seem to matter as much. I want through the motions, spent way too much time being angry and fighting fights that should have never involved me. I had to skip my seventh year initially because of the war. Doing a job that grown adults wouldn't do.

"I died and then I won. The public just moved on. I died for them and they had already moved on to the next agenda. I didn't put too much thought into it, figured maybe it was what people needed to move on. I finished my seventh year of schooling, claimed my lordships and tried becoming a productive member of society, but it wasn't enough for them. I'd given my life for them, but they still wanted more. I was told, by a family I trusted, that I had duty to live my life by their terms. I was expected to marry and have heirs and use my titles. That my finishing school was cute and all, but it was time for me to get serious and I remembered being at Kings Cross, being dead, and making the decision to come back. To come back and finish my duty, the one I had been groomed for and I'd never wished more that I hadn't."

"You came back to the mundane world with no education from the time you were eleven."

"Exactly, I had money, but no real identification or education. So I tried to put what I had learned of magic to good use. Willow helped me gain the trust of those around me. I helped take care of them and, when they could, they helped take care of me."

"That's how you met Sherlock."

"Yeah, back in two-thousand-five, I think, Sherlock was trying to set up his network with the homeless. People talked and I decided it would probably be best to check it out. These were my people, you know? The second thing your brother said to me, after berating me over the knock I used, was to ask me if you had sent me. Always so suspicious, you two." Harry chuckled.

Mycroft stood, stretched in only a way a Holmes could, still looking dignified in doing so. "I would like time to, digest this information. I have questions, but in order to get the full picture…"

"Take all the time you need Mycroft, I'm not going anywhere, at least not for a while. I've got a home I'd like to better acquaint myself with." Harry interrupted. "I do hope I'll see you in bed tonight."

"It's a date, dear."

* * *

"Sherlock, you do know we have phones, right? And you could call before showing up?" Harry asked exasperatedly.

"Dull."

"Where are you going with Bishop?"

"I need him for a case."

Harry took in a breath and held it five count before releasing it. "You are not experimenting on my cat Sherlock."

"I need him for a case, not an experiment. He's going to be my partner. People tend to find the skull creepy."

"I'm not even going to ask." Harry said as he threw his hands up. "You just better not lose my cat Sherlock, or I'll be displeased and you'll have to explain it to your brother."

* * *

"Sherlock is borrowing Bishop, so if you could keep an eye out that'd be great." Harry stated as he popped into Mycroft's office.

"Someone is going to catch you doing that one day, arriving to or departing from my office in such a manor."

"You bring Tirbble to work with you. What do people say about the small sentient fur ball sleeping in your paperwork outbox?"

"My people know better."

"Exactly." Harry said smugly walking around Mycroft's desk to sit on the arm of the desk chair. "Your brother has my cat. Should I be worried? More worried than usual, that is."

"For my brother or the cat?"

"Either."

"The argument I could make for either would take to long, I have interviews to go through today." Mycroft said sounding disgruntled.

"New Not-Cynthia?"

"A new assistant, yes."

Harry waited until Mycroft had finished with the document he was working on before reaching out and grabbing Mycroft's hand, intertwining their fingers. "Mmm."

"Pouting is unbecoming of your station."

"'Living homeless on the streets is unbecoming if my station."

Mycroft switched to working on his laptop, typing with one hand. Harry remained precariously perched on the arm of the chair, letting his mind drift.

"If you are going to stay I will need use of my hand again." Mycroft stated sometime later.

Harry waited until Mycroft looked up at him before putting on a childish pout. At Mycroft's raised eyebrow, Harry smiled giving a little laugh and gave Mycroft a peck on the cheek. "Alright, alright. I'll just go watch from the corner." Harry gave Mycroft's hand a squeeze and waited until he felt a squeeze in return. He got off the chair and walked to the corner behind Mycroft's desk, off the the right. He conjured a chair, sat, and disillusioned himself and the object he sat on.

Mycroft pressed a button on the phone on his desk and a few seconds later the first interviewee was escorted in. The escort indicated where the interviewee should sit and handed Mycroft a folder then turned around and left, shutting the door behind them. Mycroft flipped the folder open and asked. "Tell me, what qualifies you for this job?" Thus, began the process that six hours later will have whittled the pile of twenty-two folders down to just three. Mycroft had only stopped for a short lunch after Harry had insisted and even gone so far as to drag Mycroft out of the office with him to fetch the food.

"What do you think?" Mycroft inquired distractedly as he scrutinized the folders.

"Number 17 scares me." Harry stated. "There is something about her eyes I don't like and while her marksmanship scores and knowledge of several different forms of martial arts is a plus. She reads like a plant. Her knowledge of technology is a bit dated to be of use to you and she has too many holes in her employment history to be trusted sooner rather than later."

"I agree." Mycroft said tossing Number 17 on top of the ever growing pile of rejected applications. "That you caught on to the plant idea impresses me. Her application was pushed through the system. I suspect the person who did thought they were clever."

"More clever than a Holmes? They obviously don't know what they are getting themselves into or who they are messing with."

"Number 3?"

"His marksmanship is a bet lower than I would like and while that may normally be a disqualifier according to the standards you set out, you allowed the application through. He is adaptable though, has well-rounded education and job history, and appears to do quite well with multi-tasking according to the tests you issued. He has a clean record, military and civilian, and every employer recommendation includes the word loyalty in a positive light. He speaks well, courteous, but not a pushover by any means."

Mycroft looked up to study Harry who was reading the folders over his shoulder. "You liked him."

"He kept you on your toes while being completely polite, answering everything you asked in timely manner, and even cluing in on what you were going to ask next. Thinking ahead and knowing what you'll need before you do is something we can hone. Of course I liked him." Harry responded trying hold back a grin.

"We?"

"Don't be stupid Mycroft, it's below you."

"Yes, dear." Mycroft retorted with a snide lilt.

Harry huffed out a sigh and shook his head. "Are you going to even ask my opinion on Number 10?"

"I could feel your hatred for the women emanating from where you sat."

"She's a bimbo, why did you even include her in the final list?"

"To make our choice easier." Mycroft retorted.

"Seriously? You couldn't have just picked up Number 3 and let that be the end of it?"

"I needed to see if what we thought of the applicants ran along the same line of reasoning."

"You were testing me." Harry retorted flatly.

Mycroft absently reached over for Harry's hand. "No, I was looking to see if either of us would differ, in some major way, over our read of a person. If you are to take it as being a test then it was one that included the both of us."

Harry allowed what Mycroft said to sink in. "Do you think that just counted as an argument? I've heard about make up sex…"

"My car should be here momentarily."

"Are you saying we're going to start in the car? Kinky." Harry said with a wink. "Well I'm going to go bother your other employees while I wait. Try not to keep me waiting."

"A lot could be said about anticipation." Mycroft responded with a smirk.

"I can see Number 3 needing a raise already." Harry laughed as he exited Mycroft's office.

* * *

"Do your confidentiality clauses actually include frottage in a car?" Harry asked as he tried to fix his disheveled look while walking up into the manor. He heard a gagging noise and looked to see Sherlock standing at the front door. "Oh grow up, Sherlock."

Mycroft let them into the manor and Harry went to shower, Mycroft joined him and massaged shampoo in his hair. The shower was completely non sexual and while Harry would never say it out loud, he found it almost healing. They were both washing away the grime of the day, physical and psychological, preparing for time spent in the quiet of their home. Mycroft was never truly off duty and as such neither was Harry, but more days than not they at least got a few hours together and even sometimes managed to sleep in the same bed at the same time. Harry had been living with Mycroft for almost two months now and Sherlock usually showed up once a week for family dinner, despite both brothers vehemently denying it should be called that. Harry like to think that he helped in some way ease the brother's relationship, or perhaps he had just learned to read them better.

He decided on ordering takeout tonight, as he dried off and dressed. He was in the kitchen and leaned over the drawer filled with takeout menus when his breath caught in his throat. A spell whizzed past his head and missed him by inches as he ducked and rolled out of the way. Turning to face the intruder, Harry caught a sight of a twist of black fabric heading through the archway and into the main house. Harry apparated into the foyer and headed the intruder off. He picked up his arm to cast a spell, his wand snapping into his hand. He quickly immobilized the intruder and put him to sleep with a few quick flicks of his wand.

Heart racing he turned and ran down the hallway to the living room where Mycroft and Sherlock sat silently playing out a battle of wills in the form of chess.

"Mycroft, take Sherlock to the safe room now!" Harry shouted as he canvased the room with his eyes to ensure their safety. "If you have a panic button, use it."

Mycroft swiftly stood, only pausing for a second to grab his brothers arm, and hurried them both into the back of the manor and down the stairs into a basement. Harry followed them to the door and waited for the automated click of the doors lock before setting out to search the entire house for anymore intruders.

Harry tucked his wand away when the sound of helicopter blades approaching alerted him to Mycroft's team arriving. He prepared himself for their entrance and waited at the bottom of the staircase standing to the left side on the first step. He had left the door slightly open and watched as it was pushed the rest of the way in. As four teams of gunmen filtered into the room and began clearing the house, a man holding a box like device and his armed partner approached Harry for fingerprint, voice, and blood sample analysis. The process would take fifteen minutes total, the time needed for the teams to secure the entire manor.

The partner lowered his gun at the clear indicative beep of the machine. "We're good sir. All teams report green. Is the person Delta Squad is with the only intruder?"

"Appeared that way. I've knocked them out and they'll need to be revived by a specialist."

"Understood, sir. Charlie Squad reports successful retrieval of package. The helicopter will transport them to the agreed secured location at this time. If you'll follow me, you can ride with my team."

"Were Bishop and Tribble retrieved as well?"

"They will be in the second pass, this way sir."

* * *

Tribble hummed audibly from his perch on Mycroft's shoulder, Harry could hear him faintly before he finally saw Mycroft and Sherlock sitting next to each other on a plain couch. Harry noted how plain the whole safe house was in general. Bishop was curled up between the two brothers, tail swishing in an agitated manor.

"The intruder's name is Felicity Williams, half-blood witch that attended Hogwarts a year behind my class. Aurors won't give any further details at this time."

"How did she find the manor?" Sherlock inquired.

"Officially? Unclear."

"Unofficially then?" Sherlock snapped.

"A tracking spell. One that's not quite legal under certain conditions." Harry admitted.

"Is that why you have been using magic less?" Mycroft asked this time.

"George mentioned that the spell had been brought up in that column the Prophet is keeping on me. I thought if I limited my magic use, well, maybe they'd get bored or something? It wasn't an issue, until now."

Mycroft gave Harry a look. "You didn't think it was an issue?"

"Not what I meant exactly, it's just, what could I do? The Wizengamot is hardly going to listen to me and with as many as there are possibly using the spell…" Harry trailed off.

"Really, Harry. You have the ability to stand up for yourself." Mycroft closed his eyes and rubbed them.

"I just wanted them to leave me alone."

"Well that's about to change." Mycroft stated with authority. "You are a Lord and you will be respected as one. The stalking, slander, and abuse of authority and power used against you ends."

Harry felt unsure and a bit panicked. Mycroft stood, walked over, and hugged him. Tribbles humming washed over Harry and he leaned into Mycroft's embrace.

Sherlock kept blessedly silent.

* * *

Two days later, on a chilly spring morning, Mycroft, Sherlock, and Harry were released from the safe house. Wards had been added to the manor, 221b, and Mycroft's main office. Harry would need to visit each location and have the wards attuned to him as the holder, a process that would take the better part of a day and require plenty of food and rest before attempting. The warders assured that as long as Harry was standing inside the wards during each attunement there shouldn't be any trouble with being attacked like what had happened before.

Mycroft had allowed the subject of Harry's troubles to slide during their confinement and had agreed to hold off for another couple of days until the wards had been attuned and settled. Harry had a feeling that wasn't keeping Mycroft from plotting though, the man had an amazing mind. Bishop had taken to following Harry around everywhere he went, which meant sex was out the window. Harry was not having sex in front of the "kids". He instead prepared for atuning the wards, eating according to a recommended schedule left by the warders. Sleep was a bit difficult, even with Mycroft in the bed next to him. Harry's mind seemed preoccupied by what Mycroft might by planning and Harry hated how uncomfortable this whole thing made him.

When had he become so complacent that he had started running away from his own battles instead of facing them? Although, until Harry had left what had actually been a personal battle he had fought? He'd never been able to stand up to his aunt and uncle. Never been able to stand up to society. Once he had arrived at Hogwarts his grooming had started and he was always standing up for the good of everyone else, not himself. Then there was the fact that the few people he had trusted and respected always shrugged off his concerns. Even Ron and Hermione had failed him in this at times; not that he was shrugging all the blame off on them. It's just that, if their situations had been reversed, he would like to think he might have tried to do more to help his friend. Been a voice where his they couldn't.

They had been children though, so maybe they'd all just fallen victim to the complacency and by the time the serious damage, the physical damage, was being done, Harry couldn't even safely walk into the Ministry for help. There wasn't a single authority figure he could truly trust and he couldn't run away, he couldn't escape it. They had magic, they'd always find him.

Were all the magical communities like this? Were there others being abused and tossed aside like he had been? Harry rubbed his forehead and sat up in the bed feeling sick. It wasn't until Mycroft's hand rested on his bare shoulder that Harry realized he was trembling. "What…what if there are others Mycroft?"

"Others?" The low timbre of Mycroft's voice resounding in Harry's ears as Mycroft's body enveloped his own.

"Like me. Others that they just use, and isolate, and manipulate. Children, My."

"We'll find out." Mycroft whispered. "We'll not leave any stone unturned. They're about to get a rude awakening." Mycroft pulled Harry back against him and rubbed Harry's stomach with one hand and rested his other hand on Harry's forehead. "You are not alone."

"Haven't been since I met you." Harry mumbled settling back.

"Go to sleep, Harry."

* * *

"Lord Potter-Black?"

Harry turned to see a man, a wizard, standing at the other side side of the hall in Buckingham Palace. Mycroft looked up from the newspaper he was reading and stared at Harry. Harry crossed the space between them and held out his hand for Mycroft to stand before addressing the man making his way towards them.

The man gave a short bow. "My name is Wesley Cohen, aid to the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Queen Elizabeth II contacted the Confederation on behalf of yourself, the Crown, and Magical Britain. She cited a breach of contract between the British Magical Government and the Crown in reference to the Breach Clause of the Separation Act of 1692."

"Separation Act?" Harry asked confused.

"You didn't learn about it in History of Magic, Lord Potter-Black?"

"No, and just Harry please. We just study the Goblin Wars mostly. I don't think Professor Binns has changed his syllabus since, well, since he died."

"Ah." The man, Wesley, said with a confused look on his face. "Well, the Separation Act of 1692 was a contract approved by the Confederation and signed by the Crown and then current Minister of Magic of Britain. The two parties agreed to a separation of mundane and magical in accordance with the newly passed Statue of Secrecy and the Crown aloud the British Ministry to govern itself under its own purview. The Breach Clause includes a number of stipulations, that if not met, renders the contract null and void. The Confederation has been called to session to verify the breach of contract. Should the breach hold true the Crown will have the right to immediately seize control of the British Ministry until such a time that another contract may be agreed upon."

"What do you need me to do?" Harry replied as he tried to digest the information.

"In a moment I will take you to a room set up for today's meeting. Confederation representatives, randomly selected, will ask you questions pertaining to your life and involvement in British Wizarding society. Veritaserum will be administered upon your agreement, but is not required. When the interview is over I will escort you back here to Mr. Holmes and the representatives will deliberate. The Confederation will meet two days from now and the assessment of the representatives will be officially filed with the Supreme Mugwump. The representative from the British Ministry of Magic and the current Minister will be questioned and then the Confederation as a whole deliberate and vote. A majority vote is needed for the breach to be confirmed. "

"Has the British Ministry already been notified then?"

"Yes, they were notified this morning, as protocol states. This gives them seventy-two hours to gather the documentation needed to support their defense, if they make one, that they have not breached the contract." Wesley supplied.

Harry looked up at Mycroft. "Sherlock will need to be picked up and taken to the condo. The wards there have been settled longer. I'd feel better if we all stayed there until the decision has been made. Have Bishop and Tribble retrieved as well."

"My brother may not agree."

"Lord, excuse me, Harry. Your name is confidential in these proceedings."

Harry addressed Mycroft first. "Tell Sherlock that since Bishop is a magical species of cat that he should be able to communicate with us. I'll let him put on my cloak if he figures it out."

He then turned to Wesley. "The British Ministry of Magic has been suspicious of me since I stepped into this world. They've been out right smearing my name since I was fifteen. I will be, without a doubt, at the top of their list. I'll admit I don't even know who the Minister is at this point, they may even be a decent person, but the Ministry as a whole is corrupt as fuck."

Wesley nodded "When you are ready, sir."

Harry squeezed Mycroft's hand and started to follow Wesley. Right before their hands broke apart, Harry felt Mycroft squeeze back.

* * *

Harry agreed to the Veritaserum, despite what lies the Ministry may try to come up with Veritaserum was the leading way of verifying truth in their world. The questions had started out fairly basic, his name, date of birth, parents, level of education, and so on. The representatives sat behind a long table and wore cloaks with the hood up. Wesley explained that the hoods blackened out the face of the person wearing it to keep anonymity.

"Lord Potter-Black, you were a war orphan before the Dark Lord known as Voldemort fell the first time. Can you describe for this panel where you were placed, by who or what authority, and when you learned you learned of magic before you started school at eleven."

"I was placed with my aunt and uncle, the Dursleys, who presided at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. I was brought there by Rubeus Hagrid, on orders of Albus Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall, who was also present at my placement, told me that Dumbledore wanted me to have a normal life, away from the pressures and fame of magical Britain." The monotone sound of his voice unnerved him a bit. "I had no knowledge of magic before age eleven."

"You said you were left with your aunt and uncle, in what manner?"

"I have been told that I was left on the doorstep with a letter."

"Were you ever visited by a witch or wizard prior to entering Hogwarts?"

"Hagrid delivered my letter to me."

"Why was your letter hand delivered?"

"My uncle kept destroying them."

"How did you buy your first year texts and other items?"

"Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley and took me to Gringotts. He was the one to give the Goblins my key. I took out money and paid for the things I needed from the list."

"At any time did Rubeus Hagrid ever leave you alone during your trip to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, he sent me to get my robes while he went back to the Leaky Cauldron"

"Lord Potter-Black, how would you rate the level of education you received while attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

"Poor."

"Explain, if you could."

"There was a different Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor every year I attended. Professor Quirrell had a parasitic relationship with Voldemort, Professor Lockhart was a fraud, Professor Lupin while an excellent teacher, I am unsure of his qualifications and he was eventually removed due to his being a werewolf. Professor Moody was a polyjuiced imposter, Professor Umbridge tortured students, and Professor Snape hated me for my father and was a spy for both sides of the war."

"That was only six professors, did you not take the class your seventh year?"

"My original seventh year I was on the run, because of the war. When Hogwarts reopened after the war, I opted for independent study in that subject."

"Please explain your statement that Professor Umbridge tortured students."

"Detention with her involved writing lines with a Blood Quill and she threatened to use an Unforgivable on me."

"How many detentions did you have with Professor Umbridge?"

"I don't remember anymore, too many to count."

"How many lines did you write for detention with her?"

"I don't know, but it did leave a scar."

One of the representatives waved Wesley towards Harry.

"Lord Potter-Black will you please show Mr. Cohen the scar?"

Harry lifted his left hand.

"Lord Potter-Black, I will be making a scan of your hand. The scan is painless and will provide a medical scan and picture for the representatives to examine." Wesley stated.

When Wesley was finished a parchment expelled from the end of his wand and a photo appeared on top of the parchment. Wesley delivered the parchment and photo to the representatives.

* * *

The entire proceeding took nearly five hours and the Veritaserum had to be administered again due to the longevity of the questioning. Wesley escorted an exhausted Harry out to Mycroft who stood waiting in almost the exact spot Harry had left him. Harry walked right up to Mycroft, stood chest to chest, and leaned his forehead on Mycroft's shoulder. He didn't expect Mycroft to break character and was surprised to feel an arm wrap around his shoulders and hold him close.

"We are finished here." Mycroft ground out with authority.

"Yes, Mister Holmes, Lord Potter-Black has completed his portion of the proceedings."

Harry chuckled, Mycroft hadn't been asking a question and Wesley Cohen was a brave, brave man to be staring down Harry's soulmate at this moment. Mycroft walked Harry out of Buckingham Palace and to the car waiting for them, arm still wrapped around Harry's shoulders. Harry thought that they must make a sight, the two of them walking side by side in one of the few places on earth that could recognize them for what they were.

The British Government and The Boy Who Conquered.

* * *

The official verdict came through a week later, the Crown had gotten in contact with Mycroft, and Harry and Mycroft both were summoned back to Buckingham Palace for a meeting between them and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. Mycroft had a suit custom tailored for the event delivered to the condo for himself and proper wizarding robes, befitting Harry's position, delivered by owl as well. Harry suspected Mycroft was having far too much fun going through the catalogues he had had Harry send off for from the various surrounding magical communities. Harry had even heard Mycroft mutter in disgust over the choice of selection he had reviewed from the British tailors, Harry was now barred from buying any clothes from Diagon Alley or the likes, not that Harry minded either way.

Harry's robes were a deep royal blue that appeared almost black, trimmed in silver and grey. Mycroft had informed Harry that the two colors of trim indicated his status as Lord of two Houses, but the primary colors he wore were correlated with the House of Black as it was the older House. The outfit consisted of three layers which mimicked, in Harry's opinion, Mycroft's three piece suit. Mycroft had "assisted" Harrry in dressing for the meeting and when they stood in the bathroom trying to tame Harry's hair into submission, he had to admit that they looked stunning next to each other.

Harry tried not to fidget during the car ride and took to bouncing only one of his legs. Mycroft put a hand on said leg after a moment and didn't move it even after Harry had stopped. Harry wasn't worried about the verdict itself, unofficially they had already been informed that it had been in their favor, but more to taking a stand. He wanted it, wanted to see British Wizarding Society changed for the better, and he knew that Mycroft would be there beside him every step of the way, but this would be Harry's show. Harry was the wizard in their relationship and for now that would be what mattered to most people.

"Lord Potter-Black, Mr. Holmes. If you would follow me." Wesley greeted with as they exited the car. "The Supreme Mugwump is waiting for you in the arranged meeting room."

Harry made sure to keep pace with Mycroft as they walked, they were going to go into this as equal partners whether people liked it or not. The meeting room was in the same wing as the room Harry was interviewed in, but much friendlier looking, Harry thought to himself, opulent, but friendly. A man, about middle age in appearance, stood at the far window of the room, his back to them when they entered. His attire consisted of what looked like muggle designed slacks and crisp white button down, a fitted robe completed the ensemble.

"Lord Potter-Black," The man gave a short bow. "Mister Holmes, thank you for taking the time to see me. I am Alexander Marks Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. If we might sit." Alexander said gesturing to the facing couches in the middle of the room. As they sat Alexander made an example of looking around him, before leaning in towards Mycroft and Harry, putting a hand up to his mouth and whispering. "Do you mind if we disparage with the formality?"

Wesley gave a long suffered sigh, but there was a small grin on his face as he looked as Alexander. Mycroft looked slightly scandalized, well he did to Harry anyway, and Harry was delighted by both Mycroft's and Wesley's antic. "I would greatly appreciate that sir," Harry made a show of checking his surroundings. "I don't know much about the formalities myself, honestly." Harry whispered back.

Alexander let out a loud laugh and smiled at Harry, clearly pleased. "Finally, a British wizard without a stick up his arse. No offense young man, but the Lords and Ladies of your social class could learn a thing or two in loosening up."

"Well, I wouldn't know too much about that sir." Harry admitted. "Just what I saw of the kids in school, really."

Alexander sighed. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. At what age did you claim your Lordships, Harry?"

"Nineteen, sir."

"When the assessment was filed and I was given a chance to read it over, I didn't want to believe it. I could make an excuse and say that The Confederation had its hands tied, as part of the Separation Act your Ministry signed all of those years ago, aid must requested directly from your Ministry. From what I've read of the notes of the deliberation before the Act was approved, it was one of the sticking points that many people argued against, but the rest had been fairly reasonable in comparison, that eventually it was overlooked, and people focused on the bigger picture. But we'd been watching the deterioration of the British Ministry for decades and when it came down to it we weren't willing to get involved, beyond where we had to. I've been Supreme Mugwump since Dumbledore lost the position and on behalf of the Confederation and the people we represent, I sincerely apologize to you Harry."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said as he tried not to show how upset he was. To think, Dumbledore had had the power to request aid and hadn't. Harry had just been a means to an end to the man.

Mycroft's hand found its way on to Harry's thigh palm up and Harry gripped it like a life line.

"It has been the conclusion of The Confederation that the contract between the British Crown and British Ministry of Magic has been breached. The current Minister and British Representative were unable to provide sufficient evidence to keeping in guidelines with the Breach Clause. Effective as of twelve oh one a.m. Greenwich Mean Time, today, the British Ministry of Magic and the citizens it serves and governs, is now under the authority of the British Monarch, Queen Elizabeth II."

Wesley, who had stood behind the couch Alexander was sitting on, came around and produced a letter with the official seal of the Windsor family. "Her Majesty asked that this be delivered to Lord Potter-Black and Mr. Holmes after the announcement of her new position."

Alexander stood, prompting Harry and Mycroft to stand as well. "It was a pleasure meeting you Lord Potter-Black, I hope we meet again under better circumstances."

Alexander and Harry exchanged bows and the Supreme Mugwump and his aide left the room. Harry turned to Mycroft and handed him the letter. "Ready to wage war?"

Mycroft took the proffered letter and broke the seal. "War? This shall be child's play."

* * *

Mycroft made a disgruntled face as Harry led him out of the Visitor's entrance phone booth and over to the man to have his wand cleared for entrance into the Atrium.

"Don't look like that, it's better than the toilet entrances we had to use. Plus, I like the badges." Harry said as he glanced down at the visitor's badge in his hand.

_Harry Potter_

_Overthrow Government_

"My second one said Rescue Mission" Harry continued.

"Dare I ask what the first one said?"

"Disciplinary Hearing." Harry answered as he walked towards the Minister's office, a few glances in his direction by the people walking the halls. "Two to see the Minister of Magic." Harry announced as he walked past the secretary's desk and into the Minister's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up at their entrance. "Minister, you and I don't need introductions, but this is Mycroft Holmes, appointed Queen Elizabeth II to oversee her will." Harry turned to Mycroft. "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, current Minister of Magic."

"Harry, you can't just walk in here as you like, you have to make an appointment like everyone else." Kingsley stated sounding incensed. "I don't know what this nonsense is about this muggle being given control over our matters, but the people won't stand for it. I won't stand for it."

"I'm afraid Minister, that you do not have a choice in this matter." Mycroft interceded. "The Separation Act of 1692 was a legally and magically binding contract between the British monarchy and the British Ministry of Magic. The breach of contract was confirmed by your own International Confederation of Wizards."

"How come they didn't obliviate you?" Kingsley asked pointing at Mycroft. "And arrest you, for breaking the Statue of Secrecy?" He continued as Kingsley moved his arm to point at Harry.

"My soulmate works directly under the Crown." Harry ground out. "You will not point at him in an aggressive manor again Minister, as a wizard you know better and this will be your final warning."

"A muggle? Your soulmate? There will be an outcry over this."

"He prefers mundane and it is no one's business who my soulmate is, but mine Minister. So, if we could focus on the issue at hand. I'm sure you've received the letter from the ICW by name explaining that control reverted back to the Crown as of midinght?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't allow this. We were railroaded at that meeting and as Minister I have to do what's best for my people."

Harry felt the shift in magic, the Minister had some sort of magical version of the panic button and he had used it. "You should know about the Act as Minister, you can't just ignore the law Kingsley. That's what we fought for. Evil tyranny to be stopped and justice to be served."

"We can't all be the perfect war heroes." Kinsley muttered under his breath as Aurors rushed through the door and filled the room.

Harry grasped Mycroft's hand next to him. "That's the thing you forget Minister, I died for that cause, and death changes a person."

Harry turned, grabbed Mycroft's waist and appareted.

* * *

Collapsing into the condo, Harry gasped for air and rolled away from Mycroft. He took a minute to catch his breath and check himself for injuries, before getting up and checking Mycroft over.

"Does anything hurt?" Harry asked as he ran his hands over Mycroft's body and exposed as much skin as he could. Harry felt like his heart was in his throat and his hands were shaking to a point where they were just hindering his process not helping.

"I'm fine, Harry."

"Are you sure? There was no splinching? It be really dangerous, Mycroft, and I just need to check. I just need…" Harry rambled, double and triple checking Mycroft in his efforts.

"Harry." Mycroft called as he sat up, gathering Harry's hands in his own. "Nothing hurts and I am fine. I would like to know what just happened, though."

Harry blinked and took a shuddering breath. "The…the part where we just became criminals? Or, or the part…where I apparated through anti-apparation wards?"

* * *

Harry entered Gringotts dressed head to toe as a witch, in the attire of a Lady of a House out to visit Gringott's bank. In other words, a woman on a mission. Harry had even gone so far as to learn to mimic a French accent, taught relentlessly by Mycroft, for speaking to the Goblins about wanting to see his account manager.

"Lord Potter-black, how can the Horde assist you today?" Nirhold asked as he entered the office Harry had been escorted to.

"Has the rumors of my being a wanted criminal made it to Gringotts yet?"

"Yes, the Minister held a conference in the square here in Diagon, you are to be restrained on sight, at which time Aurors will escort you to Azkaban for treason."

"My accounts?"

"The Ministry did attempt seizure, but without conviction in a trial by the Wizengamot, the Goblin Horde will not close an account for seizure."

"Which they don't have." Harry sighed in relief.

"Not yet, little Lord."

"I need to send a letter to the ICW, the Sumpreme Mugwump directly if possible, and I need to know if the Potter or Black family still retains a solicitor."

"Gringotts can arrange a letter be delivered to the Supreme Mugwump and look into whether or not a solicitor is retained. May I inquire as to what you will write to the Confederation?"

"Help. I don't know if you know it Nirhold, but the Minister is no longer the true authority here anymore. The ICW recognized a breach of contract between the mundane monarchy and British Ministry."

"You are referring to the Separation Act, yes? I see, we will get on this at once, little Lord. The letter?" Nirhold held out a gnarled hand and took the letter from Harry.

Now all he could do was wait.

* * *

Harry arrived at the condo and took in the disarray. The wards were shredded, Harry could felt the faint tingle of magic as what left if them held in place. An American Auror stood just inside the door, he looked haggard and grim, hearing Harry's entrance the man looked at Harry and shook his head.

Harry stumbled past the Auror and followed the familiar path to the master bedroom, he could hear the shouts from the front door. Pushing through the door Harry saw. Mycroft standing be the bed and a feeling of elation washed over him. No one would tell him anything and he had feared the worst, but there he was, his soulmate and partner, looking irate as ever but alive.

Until Mycroft looked at him.

Until Mycroft looked through him.

The reason they wouldn't tell him anything.

The reason the Auror had shook his head and looked so grim.

The Ministy's Aurors spells had struck true, but they hadn't killed Mycroft, they had obliviated him instead.

* * *

Harry started and came face to face with a concerned Wesley Cohen.

"Lord Potter-Black?" Wesley asked looking unsure.

"Wesley? What time is it? What are you doing here?" Harry asked as his heart raced with the fuzzy remnants of the nightmare, memory if it's events just beyond his grasp.

"Oh good, when the Goblins told me I could find you here and then I thought there was just a sleeping woman…"

"What?" Harry asked before it dawned on him, the cosmetic charms. "Right, hold on." Harry found his wand and made to cancel the charms.

"No!" Wesley shouted, reaching for Harry's hand. "Wait, please, if you don't mind. The Supreme Mugwump should see this. He's with a goblin name Nirhold and an older gentleman who refuses to introduce himself until he's seen you."

"Er, well, I guess." Harry shrugged lowering his wand. "Have you brought help with you Wesley? I had to leave Mycroft behind and Sherlock could be anywhere." A pang ran through Harry's heart and he experienced the feeling if his heart in his throat. "Mycroft." He breathed in a strangled squeak. "You have to send someone now!"

Wesley was startled by Harry's outburst, but grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the room and down the hall to where the others were. "Sorry, for the intrusion Supreme Mugwump, but Lord Potter-Black needs us to retrieve Mister Holmes immediately. He fears his soulmate may be in danger."

"There's a condo I inherited, we've been using to lay low. It's not hooked up to the floo and it's in a mundane building. I had to leave him behind, but because of the tracking spell others know where it is, I've felt my wards ripple almost constantly when we are there and what if the wards don't hold up and they get to him and I'm not there…" Harry rushed.

"Lord Potter-Black?" Alexander asked looking unsure.

"What?"

"Harry take off the charms now." Wesley whispered in Harry's direction.

Harry flicked his wand and released the cosmetic charms. He became annoyed after a moment. "If your just going to stand there and stare I'm going to go get Mycroft myself."

"Of course, Lord Potter-Black. I have brought ICW appointed Aurors with me from America. We should have more coming in from France, Germany, Bulgaria, and Italy within the hour. Other countries are preparing and on standby should we need more help. The British Ministry of Magic has chosen to ignore a ruling, a confirmation, laid down by our Confederation. This is in violation of our own laws as a member of this Confederation." Alexander stated crisply. "The Aurors I brought with me will escort you to retrieve your family members."

"Will you be alright? What if they try something funny?"

"The Goblins have agreed to allow us to stay here, for the time being. You made loyal friends when you gained the respect of the Goblin Horde, Harry"

Harry nodded. "Anyone here able to make a portkey?"

* * *

Harry aparated directly into his condo, wand out, and made his way through the rooms and hall towards the master bedroom. He turned to see the Aurors arrive by portkey and they spread out for their various tasks. Most would be tackling the Ministry Aurors attacking Harry's wards, a few were closing in on Harry as he opened the bedroom door.

Bishop rushed out of the room and began to tell all who would listen about his displeasure at being locked up. Mycroft wasn't in the room. A chill ran down Harry's spine and he had just started to panic when he heard the sound of the shower running. Harry motioned to the master bathroom and indicated he would be checking it out, waiting for the Aurors nod of understanding.

Harry slipped in the bathroom and could just make out a figure through the steam. "Mycroft?" The figure turned and Harry came closer, finally being able to make out his soulmate's form.

"Care to join me, Harry? I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

"I don't think the Aurors standing in out bedroom would appreciate that much. Although, if you get out now I could use a hug."

Mycroft shut off the water and Harry brought over a towel to help dry Mycroft off. "Did something happen?"

Harry worked on drying Mycroft's back and mumbled something too low to hear.

"Pardon?"

Harry wrapped the towel around Mycroft, bringing his arms around, and hugged him. "I had a nightmare."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Harry squeezed tighter for a moment and pulled away, transferring the towel from his hands to Mycroft's. "Not now. Later?" Mycroft turned around and nodded. "I'll go let them know we haven't drowned and clear the room so you can get dressed."

"You'll need to change to, dear."

"What? You don't think this suits me?" Harry grinned as he turned around in the outfit he had used to get into Gringotts.

* * *

The Ministry Aurors were taken into custody, Mycroft, Harry, and a group of ICW appointed Aurors entered the British Ministry of Magic. Harry and Mycroft were dressed much in the same manner as they had been the last time they were here. People stopped and stared this time, actively taking notice of the group storming the Ministry hallways and making their towards the Ministers office. Harry's badge tickled him pink today.

_Harry Potter_

_Ministry Traitor_

Some of the others were a little less than enthused by the badges they had been given, but Harry found that he could care less. He had said those words exactly to the automated voice.

"A bit more than two to see the Minister." Harry announced to the secretary as he once again pushed through the Minister's door. "Ah, Kingsley, wanted for treason am I?"

"Lord Potter-Black." Kingsley said grudgingly. "You wouldn't happen to know where my missing Aurors are would you?"

Harry shrugged and pointed to the ICW Aurors behind him. "You'd have to ask them."

One stepped forward, Damian, if Harry remembered correctly, Damian Johnson. "Minister Shacklebolt, you are hereby relieved of your duties as Minister of Magic. If you would please come with me, sir, you are being detained until the next Confederation session, to be held tomorrow."

"By whose authority?" Kingsley demanded.

"Mine." Alexander answered as he was escorted into the room. "Alexander Marks, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. A group your nation is a part of and whose laws your nation must abide by. Being a Minister does not put you above our laws, and I'd personally like to know where your government thinks it can get away with ignoring laws older than either of us. You have got two choices Mr. Shacklebolt, you can walk out of here of your own free will or with enough restraints you'll have to be carried out."

Harry tried not to show the disappointment on his face when Kingsley chose the former.

* * *

Harry ended up doing less than he would have originally after Kingsley was removed from office. Instead of letting their government's change of hands happen quietly, Kingsley had set the British Ministry of Magic, and to an extent its citizens, up for scrutiny by the ICW. The was no department left unaffected, all positions within the Ministry had to be reapplied for and the standards where re-raised to international standards. Harry learned that the ICW enforced a lot of different standards for the running of a country's government that had been allowed to slip through the cracks here in Britain.

The Auror department was being supplemented at the moment with Aurors from various countries until new graduates and old made it through the assessment program. There had been some problems with the Prophet printing its usual slander, but when it had been found out that the Ministry was the biggest backer in the paper and after that funding had been pulled, the paper collapsed and wizarding radio, for a time, became the only source of news, outside of gossip. The purebloods had kept oddly quiet, and Harry worried about the possible backlash that may be brewing.

He really just wanted some alone time with Mycroft. Between both of their work, where it overlapped and where it didn't, they hadn't been in bed at the same time in a week. Harry didn't understand how Mycroft enjoyed so much work on a regular basis. This week Harry would be touring Hogwarts and helping to schedule the assessments that needed to be done of the teachers. He would also be helping looking through all the school records that could be dug up. Being appointed by the Crown as her magical representative sucked most days.

* * *

"Hey mate, why the long face?" George ask as he, Charlie, and Bill filled in the empty seats of the table.

"Work sucks." Harry complained as he put his head in his arms. "Do you know just how many records are just sitting around in Hogwarts unlabeled and and with no apparent organizational system?"

"Welcome to real life, good to see you here."

Harry lifted his head to glare at George and turned to greet Bill and Charlie. "Hi guys, it's been a while."

"Too long, Harry, and Charlie and I really want to apologize…" Bill started.

Harry waved him off. "George told me already, consider the apology already accepted. How have you two been?"

"Well, I'm doing good, still married to Fleur, didn't have any more children though, just Victoire and she's plenty a handful herself. She's about to start school, Fleur's said that if Hogwarts hasn't gotten its act together before then that we'll be sending her to Beauxbaton's in the fall instead. Thankfully my job allows me a certain amount of mobility and I've already checked to see if I could transfer banks. Mum isn't too keen on the idea though. She's been in a right state about you Harry."

Harry sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised."

"So, is he really your soulmate? The muggle that has been hanging around?" Charlie chimed in.

George laughed. "You should meet his brother, he's the interesting one."

"Oi, Mycroft it plenty interesting and you all should try living with them. Don't get me wrong, I love the bastards, I do, but you cannot allow them to be cooped up for too long of a time. Though, I must say, they've toned it down some, or maybe I just don't notice as much?"

"Seriously, Harry, how is it going with you two?" George asked.

"Living with him is good, the manor feels like home, and I get really excited about our family dinner nights. Not that either of them will let me call it that." Harry grinned. "Bishop's made himself a home, he likes carrying Tribble around. Scared the fuck out of us the first time he tried it." At Bill and Charlie's confused looks. "Bishop is our cat, my familiar, and Tribble is Mycroft's puffskein. Anyway, if we could just keep the outside world from invading our home, figuratively and literally, for a time I'd feel better.

"I mean I knew going into this that Mycroft's work was important and that it would keep him away sometimes, or even keep me away if he had an assignment for me, but these last couple of weeks have been a bit much. It's left us doing twice the normal amount of work. Thankfully in about two months or so, the majority of my work with the ICW will be complete. Mycroft assures me that our roles will become more ambassadorial at that point."

"Maybe you just need to get laid." George threw out there.

"Maybe if I wasn't so tired all the time, I'd try."

"Be assertive, Harry, surprise him at work or something."

Harry snorted. "I don't think Number 3 would appreciate that very much."

"Number 3?"

"Mycroft's new assistant. He's new, on a bit of a probationary status."

"Dare I ask what happened to his last one?" Charlie asked.

"She died in the line of duty."

"Jeez, Harry, your life never really does slow down does it?"

"Hmm," Harry thought for a moment. "No, but like I said, Mycroft does important work and it comes with its own amount of danger. I don't think I could have a soulmate that was any other way.

"So, what about you, Charlie? Still working in Romania?"

"No, got injured about two years ago. Physical therapy and good salves help me walk without a limp, for now, I took a nasty blast to the leg. Some fairly severe burns to my outer thigh and lower right leg. Danger of the job though, been living off my savings while I study some healing and potions. Muggle-born friend of mine mentioned, what was it called, sports medicine? We are trying to see how the concept could be implemented at the reserve and other high risk jobs. Wizards rely too much on hoping the person gets to a healer in time." Charlie explained.

"I hope that works out for you guys."

"Also, I've been seeing this girl…"

* * *

"The Quibbler put out some interesting statistics in its last issue. Apparently, all but a third of the marriages that occurred in the two years following the war have ended in divorce." George stated as he finished his meal. "Divorce until now had been a rare occurrence."

"Can't say I'm all that shocked honestly. People rushing into marriage because it's what everyone else is doing and not waiting to find out how compatible they are first." Harry said.

"Compatibility has never really been a consideration though, in pureblood circles anyway." Bill added. "Marriage is used for line purity and status."

"Which is why their family trees don't branch nearly as much as they should. Might even be why birth rates are so low."

"Well, Ron and Hermione are sure doing their part in repopulating. Had their first boy last year and Ron's already talking about trying for another."

Harry thought back to when he had last seen the two, Hermione hadn't been keen on more kids. "Just Ron?"

"Hermione for the longest time was adamantly against it, but she hasn't exactly denied the claims the last couple of times we've all gotten together for family dinners. She has been looking a bit tired though."

"Maybe one of you should offer to watch the kids for a while so she can go get looked at." Harry suggested.

The three brothers exchanged looks.

"I think I just might." Charlie agreed. "I can take a day off anytime."

"Maybe I could convince Fleur to take Hermione out for a day a pampering at the least. Charlie and I could wrangle the kids."

"You make it sound like you would have to go behind Ron's back."

George rubbed his face and sighed. "We will. I told you about his state of joblessness, the crackdown on the Ministry has just made it all that much harder. If he is even looking for a job like he tells mum. Of course, he uses mum's irate attitude about the Ministry fallout to his advantage I'm sure."

"What's for her to be mad about? She may be a pureblood, but no offense your line is considered blood traitors. Your dad reapplied for his job right?" They all nodded. "The purpose of the reapplication process was just to ensure qualified individuals were in those jobs. Not just someone who got there based on money or some sort of corruption. The process was detailed and involved interviews as well, cause you can't learn everything about someone via a paper application." Harry explained.

"To be honest, we don't really know and maybe it makes us bad sons, but we try not to read into any of it too hard."

* * *

"George, wait up." Harry called. "Look, could you try and see if you could convince Hermione to go get looked at. We may not be friends anymore, but what Ron is doing is wrong, and I don't want to think it extends beyond mooching off your parents, but what if it does?"

George gave Harry a strange look before what Harry had said dawned on him. "Yeah, Harry. I'll try anyway."

"That's all I could ask for mate, thanks."

* * *

Two weeks before Christmas Mycroft handed Harry a catalogue full of evening gowns, for women, and told Harry to pick one out he liked.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Harry inquired as he flipped through the catalogue.

"I secretly prefer the female gender and would prefer that from now on you go around the house in elegant dresses for me to watch." Mycroft retorted dripping with sarcasm.

"No need to get huffy." Harry laughed. "So, why am I picking out a dress?"

"There is a charity dinner that I must attend for work."

"Don't the people at your work know I'm male. I mean I know my hair got long there for a while, and sometimes I think my robes look like dresses…"

"My other job."

"Ah. Oh ewww, who wears that color? Please tell me no one there will be wearing that."

* * *

"Explain to me why we have attend again?"

"My job as 'the British Government' as you and Sherlock insist on calling it," Mycroft started as he walked out of the bathroom in a new tailored tux. "is not, officially on the books shall we say. I am attending this charity dinner as an aide to a department head that cannot make it this evening, I have been his aide for the past eight years and have attended many functions in his place."

"Except he doesn't actually exist."

"More, the Department doesn't actually exist, but it is far more legitimate than what I actually do, on the books anyway."

"And people don't notice?" Harry asked sounding skeptical.

"People tend only to see what they want to see." Mycroft finished. "I'd thought you'd abject more to your outfit than why we have to attend at all."

Harry shrugged. "This part I get. Society, as fucked up and backwards as it is, has certain expectations. Your job tonight is to blend in and mingle with the idiots and to gather intelligence from the ground level. You need to appear for appearances sake, to keep your more legitimate contacts, but you also need to blend in, seem no more important than the next person." Harry stated as he stood up off the bed in his emerald green gown, the gown was a form fitted wrap that flared at the bottom with a short train. "Showing up with a male soulmate would cause quite a stir, but continuing to not show up with one at all could become detrimental. Luckily for you, I have no issue with cross-dressing"

Mycroft had arranged for Harry's hair and make-up to be done professionally, having a hair stylist and make-up artist brought to the manor. Harry had needed to lengthen his hair with a few spells, ever since he had begun living with Mycroft he had kept it trimmed to a shorter, but still unruly length. A glamour already in place to hide his Adam's apple, diminish the lightning bolt scar, and soulmate mark, Harry sat in a white robe in the master bathroom and let the ladies get to work. The change was stunning to Harry, and he almost didn't quite recognize himself. After the ladies had left Harry had done a bit of unfortunately necessary tucking, slipped on the dress using magic to allow him to zip up the back without assistance, and put on the necklace Mycroft had left out for him, before leaving the bathroom and settling back on the bed to wait.

"I'm not ashamed of you." Mycroft said as he moved closer to Harry.

"Nor am I of you, but tonight calls for different tactics. A different path towards peace."

"Or war."

"Well, there is always war." Harry smiled giving Mycroft a peck on the cheek. "Either way we will stand by each other and endure it together."

Mycroft gave Harry a rare, true smile and pulled a small black pair of gloves out of his pocket. "So there is one less thing you have to glamour."

"Thank you, Mycroft. Never let anyone tell you that you don't deserve a soulmate, that you don't deserve me, because it is very much possible that you deserve a soulmate more than most and I am honored to hold that position."

* * *

"If one more man grabs my ass I am decimating this entire building." Harry grumbled into Mycroft's ear, looking as if he was leaning over to give his soulmate a peck on the cheek.

"Not to worry, I've already compiled a list of names. May want to keep watch in the newspaper, maybe we could read it together."

Harry gave Mycroft a flirty grin. "Always a way with the sweet, sweet words."

A man cleared his throat and Harry turned to see an older gentleman, hair greyed and skin starting to lose its luster, with a twenty-something hanging off his arm. "Mycroft Holmes, always a pleasure to see you here. How many years has it been now that you have attended in place of your boss."

"Eight, as you will recall, Mr. Greene."

"So formal Mycroft, call me Richard, I insist, and who is this lovely flower you've brought with you today? Finally giving up and settling? Prefer it this was myself." Mr. Greene laughed and downed the last of his champagne.

"Richard," Mycroft stressed as if it pained him to say it. "This is Harper Lawson, my soulmate."

"Oh ho oh! When's the big day then?"

"We haven't decided yet, but we are considering eloping, much more practical in my opinion." Harry interjected.

"Found yourself the perfect match there Holmes, this here is Felicity, she's been keeping me plenty happy if you know what I mean." Mr. Greene stated as he about tipped over.

"If you'll excuse us Richard I think I see an old friend just arrived." Mycroft stated taking Harry's arm in his and pulling them away from the pair. "Interesting fact about Richard Greene, he appears only ever capable remembering my name when he's about passed out drunk." Mycroft murmured when they were far enough away.

"Don't you feel special." Harry grimaced.

"Indeed."

"So did you really see someone?" Harry asked as Mycroft continued to weave them through the crowd.

"Oh yes, some new friends of ours, actually."

"What?" Harry stretched to see who they were heading towards.

"Alexander, Wesley, what a lovely surprise." Mycroft called out as they approached the two men, just loud enough to catch their attention.

"Mister Holmes." Alexander said by way of greeting. "And…"

"Harper Lawson, my soulmate." Mycroft interceded at Alexander's confused look. "Perhaps we could retire to one of the sitting rooms until dinner is called."

* * *

"Harry?" Wesley called after the door to the room had shut.

"Hello, Wesley. How are you, and what are you doing here exactly?"

"The Crown said we should try a muggle social setting, to get a feel of some of the social attitudes. Might help us with some of the reformation efforts. Why are you dressed like a girl, again?"

"Mycroft's second job, acting as a plebian aide that comes to these sort of events in stay of his boss."

"I still don't understand." Wesley said as he looked towards Alexander.

"Homosexuality is a minority among bonded pairs…"

"And?"

"What do you mean and?" Harry asked confused.

"And so what?"

"So it kind of stands out and it's kind of frowned upon, neither of which is the kind of attention we want tonight."

"Frowned upon? Among the mundanes? It isn't a choice."

"That's not the part people can't seem to swallow, it's more along the lines of reproduction. Some of the older ideas on gay bonded pairs versus straight have still carried over into this century. Why do you look so confused?"

"It is more acceptable in America, Harry." Mycroft said as he came to stand behind Harry, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't get us wrong, such ideas still linger on our side of the pond too, but it has been a long time since I've personally seen it, and it is entirely possible Wesley has never come across it considering the circles we are a part of." Alexander explained. "You are okay with this though, Harry?"

"Yeah, it's not a hardship, well the act of it isn't anyway. Another person grabs my ass and it may be a different matter, but it's just another job for me, and seeing how Mycroft is my boss as well as my soulmate, whatever bit I can do for him on either front is worth it."

Mycroft released his hold on Harry's shoulders and gripped Harry's right hand. "If you'll excuse us gentlemen, we are going to go find our seats."

Harry waved and put the two wizards out of his thoughts, maybe some people just wouldn't understand.

* * *

"Thank Merlin that's over." Harry said as he climbed into the car. "I'm a little sad you didn't just let me torch the place. The number of lecherous old men in that building was ridiculous."

"Imagine the paperwork I would have to fill out if I had."

* * *

"I found you very enticing tonight, dear."

"I put on a dress and make-up and you find me enticing all of a sudden?" Harry asked with a glare in Mycroft's direction as he walked out of the bathroom, skin still tinged pink from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

"Your being enticing had nothing to do with what you were wearing and everything to do with the way you behaved." Mycroft grunted, pulling off Harry's towel when he walked within reach and pushed a now naked Harry down on the bed. "Don't move."

Harry watched as Mycroft took off his clothes, A moment's hesitation with each garment was the only thing keeping them from being flat out torn off the man's body. "Are you saying I'm a tease?"

Mycroft crawled on top of Harry and devoured his lips and mouth into a searing kiss.

* * *

"Mrow." Bishop cried as he put a paw on Harry's face.

Harry blearily opened his eyes, blinked a few time, and got a good look at his familiar. "Why do you have garland wrapped around you?"

"Mrow."

Harry reached out and helped untangle his disgruntled familiar. "Better?"

Bishop picked up the silver garland and dragged it out of the room.

Harry stretched on the bed and got up to head, tilting his head at the smell of, was that bacon? He followed the smell into the kitchen and found Greg Lestrade cooking breakfast at his stove. "Umm, good morning?"

"Good morning Harry, you're up a bit earlier than they said you'd be." Greg said cheerily, at Harry's confused looked he continued. "The guys planned a bit of a Christmas surprise for you, asked if I'd mine coming over a bit early and cooking."

"Actually asked?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but after I got an explanation out of Mycroft I agreed it was a good idea. Did you actually ban them from the kitchen?"

"They ruined the one in my condo, probably more out of getting caught up in their competition with each other than their actually ability to cook, but I thought it safer either way."

Greg laughed. "I didn't know what you'd like and they literally won't step foot in this place, so I'd thought I would go with simple eggs and bacon with toast. How would you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled, please." Harry got comfortable on one of the bar stools. "You don't think they need to be check on do they?"

"Will it really matter either way?"

"No, they could probably burn the manor down and I'd just go with it. They've never taken initiative like this before."

"Mycroft mentioned you'd had a rough year."

"For all of us, my past caught up with me and I got Mycroft and Sherlock dragged back into it with me."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, I'm just glad it's been all straightened out, Mycroft's job is enough of a stress at times as it is."

Greg put a plate in front of Harry and joined him a moment later with a plate of his own food.

Harry frowned. "The guys aren't eating with us?"

"Already fed them, just sit back and relax a bit. Like you said, they could burn this place down at this point, right?"

* * *

The end result about moved Harry to tears, Mycroft and Sherlock had, somewhat, worked together to decorate the dining room and sitting room with Christmas decorations old and new. In the dining room there was a slightly crooked banner exclaiming Merry Christmas and the wreaths Harry usually put up had been wrapped in multi-color Christmas lights. A Christmas tree sat in one corner of the room, decorated top to bottom in lights, garland and ornaments. The ornaments consisted of the regular Christmas type and also what appeared to be chemistry equipment and some of Mycroft's ties.

Dinner was a peaceful affair, the silence filled with stories from Greg about Sherlock and his adventures with the skull and Bishop, interspersed with plenty of laughter to go around. When they finally retired to the sitting room, Harry openly cried. Another tree had been set up, again decorated to the brim, presents sitting underneath. A chess set had been set up between two chairs sat kitty corner on one side of the fireplace and a loveseat on the other. The loveseat had Harry's favorite blanket folded up and sat in the middle of it. The rest of the room looked like Christmas had exploded. Lights, wreaths, and streamers filling almost every inch of the room. To anyone else it may look garish, but Harry thought it was the best Christmas present he had ever received.

Mycroft pulled Harry onto the loveseat and allowed Harry to cuddle up to him and Greg and Sherlock battled it out, the scene became all that more intense after Mycroft had Greg sign a confidentiality agreement and Harry let Sherlock open up with Christmas present. Wizard Chess may never be the same again.


End file.
